This is the story of the day before my boyfriend was supposed to finish his three-year assignment at one of our remote manufacturing plants. I hadn’t told him I was coming; I wanted to surprise him. When I got to the apartment door, I heard him inside, having a dinner party with his colleagues. “Come on, just let Chloe have one glass of wine. Don’t be such a protective tightwad.” “Seriously, you guard her so closely, you might as well just lock her in a tower.” Then, I heard that familiar voice respond. “Stop it, guys. She’s my star trainee. If she gets pissed off, I’m the one who suffers for it.” My heart did a painful somersault. Just yesterday, he had grumbled to me over text: [This trainee is so incompetent. It’s exhausting to teach her! I’m so over it!] But now he was calling her his “star.” I pushed down the instant flash of suspicion, punched the code into the keypad, and opened the door. Chapter 1 The second the door swung open, the laughter inside stopped dead. Several pairs of eyes snapped toward me, filled with shock and defensiveness at my sudden appearance. Blake casually removed his hand from the back of the girl’s chair. He forced a look of absolute delight onto his face at my arrival. “Audrey! What are you doing here?” Around the table, glances were exchanged, followed by a few forced, awkward laughs. I didn’t respond. I just looked directly into Blake’s deep, bright eyes and said, “Aren’t you flying back to New York tomorrow? I came to pick you up.” The room fell silent. Even Blake’s smile faded a little. Then, the sharp sound of glass shattering broke the tension. Someone shouted urgently: “Chloe!” I felt Blake go instantly rigid in front of me. He threw my hand off in a second. “I’ll go check on her.” Half the sentence was lost in the rush of air he left behind. In the blink of an eye, Blake had rushed to the girl’s side. She stood there looking completely helpless, a shattered glass at her feet. Her gaze was filled with suppressed grievance and vulnerability as she gazed adoringly up at Blake, who was checking her anxiously for injuries. A few knowing looks floated my way, tinged with schadenfreude. “It’s fine, it’s just a glass,” Blake said, trying to comfort her. Someone else joked, “Hey, let it break! Breaking glass is good luck, right? Fresh start and all that.” “Besides, it’s just a glass. Your mentor adores you; are you really afraid he’s going to yell at you?” The girl cast a timid glance at me. Blake followed her gaze, looking over. Our eyes met in mid-air. He froze for a second, as if finally remembering I was in the room. He forced a casual chuckle. “I’m always giving her a hard time at work, so she’s a little scared of me. Breaking a glass nearly scared her to death.” “Come, let me introduce you. This is my trainee, Chloe Bennett.” Chloe Bennett. I knew her very well. In Blake’s texts, she was the girl who was incompetent, clumsy, and always getting into trouble. He was always complaining that mentoring her was a massive headache. I felt bad for him and asked if I should call the plant manager—a friend of my father’s—to switch trainees. Blake had refused, saying it was a learning experience and that he couldn’t let my father down. It seemed there was another reason entirely. At the very least, his actual “headache” over Chloe wasn’t one-thousandth of what he’d told me. I ignored his cheerful introduction. I just looked at the pile of shards on the floor. “It’s just a glass. Who cares that it broke?” “Audrey, let’s not make a deal out of this.” Blake’s tone was solemn, as if he were trying to teach me a lesson in manners. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” Chloe said, moving to apologize by bending over to pick up the pieces. Blake stopped her immediately. He started cleaning up the mess for her. But the moment his eyes fell on the shards, he froze. The crystal fragments reflected the light beautifully. That was the gift I had given Blake for Valentine’s Day last year. Custom-made, private reserve crystal. Only two in the world—his and mine. I was too proud to say “forever,” so I used the gift to express it. He looked up at me carefully, tentatively. After several attempts to speak, he finally said, “Audrey, it was my fault. It had nothing to do with Chloe—” “It’s fine, it’s just a glass,” I interrupted him, my voice flat. “If it breaks, you get a new one.” In the past, he had treasured every single gift I gave him, not allowing anyone to touch them. Yet today, everyone at the party was using paper cups. Including Blake himself. That single broken crystal glass was the smoking gun of his blatant favoritism toward Chloe. It wasn’t an illusion, and it wasn’t baseless paranoia. Even before Blake had said that sentence, I was trying to rationalize his behavior. I was blaming my discomfort on oversensitivity. But the facts were right there. I couldn’t lie to myself. At the dinner table, his colleagues tried too hard to obscure the truth. They kept telling me stories about Blake’s strictness and hilarious mistakes Chloe had made under his supervision, trying to frame it as a strict-mentor/clumsy-apprentice dynamic. But they couldn’t hide the edge of hostility in their tone toward me. It was as if my appearance had forcibly broken up the perfect couple in their eyes. They tried to run interference for Blake, but couldn’t resist sticking up for Chloe. My blatant coldness caused the party to end awkwardly. After everyone left, Blake had me sit on the sofa in the living room. He knelt down and carefully placed some cozy, pink slippers in front of me, taking off my heels. He made me hot tea and brought over some fruit. Then he rolled up his sleeves to go clean up the mess in the dining room. He was exactly like he used to be—attentive, detailed, taking care of my every need. I looked at the steaming tea on the table and remembered college, how Blake always followed right behind me. I had a bad temper back then. Proud, cold, and unapproachable. Blake was the warm, friendly guy who could talk to anyone. He pursued me relentlessly for four years. He was like a servant who willingly accepted my dominance, ready to follow my commands at a moment’s notice. He wouldn’t let other guys get near me, wouldn’t let anyone else try to do me favors. For anything involving me, big or small, he refused to let anyone else handle it. “You’re my Rapunzel, Audrey. I can only rest easy when you’re tucked away safely in your tower.” I struggled in the memories, almost starting to let go of my reason. Then came the click of the lock. The door opened. Chloe Bennett had come back. She nodded at me but didn’t speak. She walked directly to the shoe rack, opened it, dug around, closed it, and finally, her gaze fell on my feet. Her expression was timid, but her words carried a definite edge of provocation. “Um, Audrey? Those are my slippers you’re wearing…” They were pink house shoes, very cute, but not my style. However, Blake was wearing a dark blue pair. I had assumed Blake had specifically prepared a matching couple’s set for my visit. Hearing her words, I lowered my eyes for a moment, then stood up and took the shoes off. The moment my bare feet touched the hardwood floor, a wave of coldness surged through me, chilling me to the core. I changed back into my own high heels and looked down at Chloe. I was practically laughing from rage. I wasn’t even planning on counting her in this, initially. But how could someone be so stupid as to go begging for a slap in the face? “Audrey!” Blake appeared from behind me. The sound of his rapid footsteps betrayed his anxiety. He didn’t hesitate for a second. He stood directly between me and Chloe, terrified I was going to do something to her. “I didn’t have time to tell you beforehand. I’m living in the factory dorms right now, so I let Chloe stay here temporarily.” “She was afraid you’d get the wrong idea and offered to stay in a hotel.” “But it’s very late now. There are probably no rooms left.” Before Chloe could explain anything, Blake had already found the perfect excuse for her. I remained silent. I just scanned the room briefly, and I already saw many matching couple’s items. The place was filled with traces of two people living together. Blake tried to offer another explanation: “Chloe’s boyfriend comes over occasionally.” “Is that so?” “Yes.” Blake’s gaze didn’t waver. After a brief staredown, a sarcastic laugh escaped my lips. “Fine. Whatever you say.” I looked around the fully renovated, two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment. “So, how much rent are you collecting from her a month?” Blake froze. “What rent?” Once he understood my meaning, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “She’s just a college grad who only started working a little while ago. How much money do you think she has?” “Do you really have to pick a fight over a few thousand dollars?” I had known Blake for so long, and yet this was the first time I had ever seen this aggressive, defensive side of him. I looked at him silently, feeling completely estranged. “She’s a young girl, living in an apartment rented in your name, and you’re actively paying her rent.” “You’re so thoughtful toward her. Why didn’t you spare a thought for her reputation?” Blake’s favoritism toward Chloe was undisguised. That’s why his colleagues found it normal, and instead felt repulsed by my sudden appearance as the official girlfriend. In their eyes, Blake and Chloe were the couple. Realizing he had lost control of his temper, Blake tried to explain further. But a sob came from behind him. Chloe wiped away tears. “Ment… Blake, I should just go. Don’t fight because of me.” Blake panicked, turning around to grab her tightly. “Do you know what time it is? Where are you going to go!” Chloe bit her lip in grievance, tears flowing down her face. “You don’t need to worry about me. I have my ways.” “If I don’t worry about you, who will!” Blake’s eyes were filled with anxiety. He turned and shouted at me: “Audrey, I’ll find a time to explain everything to you properly, but this has nothing to do with Chloe.” “Don’t take it out on her!” “It’s the middle of the night. Where do you expect a girl like her to go?” I let out a cold laugh. I turned around without a second thought and grabbed my suitcase, which I hadn’t even had time to open. Watching this trashy, melodramatic exchange between the cheating scumbag and his mistress was infuriating, and my breeding wouldn’t allow me to go crazy and scream. I wasn’t going to play Chloe’s games. I was genuinely leaving. Behind me came Blake’s anxious shout: “Audrey, where are you going!” “Wait for me!” Chapter 2 Yet until the moment I got into a taxi to a hotel, I didn’t see him chase after me. I stood on the balcony of the penthouse suite, smoking one cigarette after another. The phone on the table next to me rang non-stop. It was Blake, but I didn’t want to answer. Until the last cigarette burned out, the ringing continued. I picked up the phone and texted him the hotel address and room number. The world went silent. As I waited, I decided to be merciful just once. To be fair, Blake had been amazing to me. Four years of college, three years of grad school, and now three years of work. For ten years, outside of my parents, he was the person who had been the most accommodating to my temper. He had taken care of every detail, covered every angle, been everything to me. I loved him, and I relied on him. If he confessed, told me he had a change of heart, I would accept defeat. Soon, there was a knock on the hotel door. I opened it and saw Blake, completely out of breath. The sweat had soaked the hair on his forehead; he looked like he had just been pulled out of a lake. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” I lowered my eyes and let him in. I couldn’t not have a soft spot for him. He didn’t even bother taking care of himself before he started organizing the room for me, exactly as he always had. I was waiting. Waiting for him to open his mouth first. At 3:00 AM, Blake handed me a cup of warm milk and finally spoke. “Audrey, don’t overthink this.” “The reason I’m good to Chloe is that I feel bad for what she’s been through. She comes from a very poor background, she’s suffered so much…” I felt confused for a split second. I didn’t think that after all this waiting, after all this build-up, Blake would still be talking about Chloe Bennett. He even wanted me to empathize with Chloe’s suffering, to make me feel guilty for my behavior today. “Chloe’s life hasn’t been as smooth as yours. She’s very sensitive. You shouldn’t have gotten angry at her.” The milk went cold, and my patience finally ran out. “Is that what you came here to say?” Blake paused, remembered something, and his gaze shifted away. “There are some issues with the production line. The plant manager told me I need to stay for another week…” Hearing this, I only found it hilarious. The plant manager had just texted me during dinner to congratulations on Blake finishing his assignment, wishing us a safe trip back and telling us it was great to see our relationship finally entering its next chapter. I curved my lips. Fine. I’ll stay with you. Blake hadn’t expected me to stay, and he failed to give an immediate reaction. “What? Are you unhappy about that?” Blake shook his head frantically. “No, I’m happy.” I nodded. “Good. Glad to hear it.” The next morning, I personally dropped Blake off at the factory gates and watched him walk inside. Then, I told the driver to drive to the apartment I had left last night. When the door opened, Chloe was still there. As if nothing had happened yesterday, I asked casually, “Oh, you’re here, Chloe. Don’t you have to work today?” “Blake said he had some things here, and I came to help him pack them up.” As she spoke, I pulled a large suitcase out from behind me. Chloe Bennett went completely pale, staring at it blankly. But I acted as if I hadn’t noticed and continued talking: “By the way, when Blake and I get married, you absolute must come.” Chloe Bennett ran out of the apartment, looking like she had seen a ghost. I put away my fake, sugary smile, took out my phone, and opened the spyware I had installed last night. While Blake was fast asleep, I had put something on his phone. Soon, the voices of the two came over the speaker. Blake was anxiously asking what happened. The only response was Chloe’s sobbing: “Go back and marry Audrey Sterling. We’re over.” Blake was silent. Chloe’s voice was muffled. I could even imagine him pulling her into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. Finally, Blake’s voice came again. It was gravelly, with an edge of tears. “In a few years, I’ll transfer you to corporate headquarters.” “You’ll have an enviable job, a comfortable life. I’ll watch you get married, have a beautiful child, and live a happy life…” Chloe was crying uncontrollably. “I only want you!” My face had turned completely cold. I cannot accept deceit, and I certainly cannot accept being played. I vividly remembered the afternoon my father agreed to accept Blake. The crushing boulder that had been on my chest for years finally fell. I had thrown myself into Blake’s arms, crying. Three years. Just three years. That was my father’s condition for Blake, and my test. I knew three years would be hard, so I worked tirelessly to prove myself, to meet my father’s expectations, and to keep pace with Blake. To see Blake for just one extra hour, I could go three days without sleep, pushing myself to create a proposal that would satisfy my father. And listening to the recording… Blake Vance was mapping out an entire future for Chloe Bennett. Her job, her life, her relationship… they were pouring their hearts out to each other with profound devotion. If I hadn’t shown up that night, if I hadn’t known any of this… Then every future day of my life, I would have been living in this fake, disgusting “happiness.” I pulled out my phone and dialed my older brother in New York. The call was quickly answered by a cheerful voice. “Hey, little sis! Did you pick up your boyfriend?” “Mom and Dad have already arranged the welcome dinner…” The second I opened my mouth, I was horrified to find I was sobbing. “Caleb, Blake’s cheating on me.” I raised my hand and touched my face; it was covered in icy tears. My voice finally calmed down. “Make it happen. I want to ruin them both.” I have never been a patient, forgiving saint. Blake thought he could use me as a ladder. Ruin my life, gain status, and keep his mistress. Keep dreaming. After hanging up, I took a tissue and wiped away my tears. A gaping hole had been ripped in my chest, and a freezing cold wind was howling through it. Like a knife twisting, it was both cold and painful. To say I wasn’t heartbroken would be a lie. They always said Blake was devoted to me, but wasn’t I devoted to him as well? I scanned the apartment. It was vastly different from the place I had seen three years ago. During Blake’s first month here, he casually remarked that he couldn’t sleep well in the factory dorms. I had immediately bought this apartment. Worried that he would refuse it out of pride, and afraid of giving him financial pressure, I had found a reliable real estate agent to rent the apartment to him at well below market value. Over the past three years, I had only come here a handful of times during the first year. After that, I was busy, and Blake said he was busy. Every time I came to see him, we only had a quick meeting outside the factory. So I had no way of noticing his change of heart. But at this point, I didn’t want to obsess over when the rot had started. While Blake and Chloe were out in the afternoon, I had surveillance cameras installed in every room. After confirming the connection was perfect, I went back to the hotel.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400793”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Every year on April Fools’ Day, my boyfriend teamed up with his “bro-girl” best friend to play a sick prank: he would fake a proposal to me. Last year, my heart pounded with anticipation as he slipped the ring onto my finger. But the moment it was on, a hidden spring mechanism in the trick ring snapped shut, crushing my skin. I screamed in agony. My boyfriend and his best friend, Chloe, just erupted into hysterical laughter. They didn’t care that my finger was turning purple and dangerously close to losing circulation. To apologize, my boyfriend, Liam, swore on his life that this year, the proposal would be real. So, when he frantically called me, begging me to meet him at the exact spot of our first date, I believed him. I got a blowout, had my nails done, spent two hours on my makeup, and bought a brand-new dress. I even had the engagement announcement drafted and ready to post on Instagram. But the second I walked through the door, my heart full of joy… a massive, heavy paper plate completely covered in shaving cream and frosting was smashed directly into my face. A bright, loud, feminine laugh exploded from the crowd. “I told you she’d show up! You owe me fifty bucks, Liam! You lose!” Liam stepped up and gently wiped the frosting off my face, using the same tender touch he always had. “You dressed up so pretty today, too. Shame about the outfit.” “I made a bet with the guys on whether we could actually get you to show up today. I bet you wouldn’t. If I won, I was going to propose to you tomorrow. If I lost, I’d propose next year.” “Sorry, babe. Since you showed up, I guess we aren’t getting married this year either.” I stood perfectly still, looking at him through the sticky mess on my eyelashes. “So. Do you even know what tomorrow is?” He smiled casually, brushing it off. “Of course I know. It’s our six-year anniversary. How could I forget?” The heavy, sickeningly sweet frosting clung to my skin. In that exact moment, a profound, suffocating exhaustion washed over me. It was all so pointless. Our anniversary was less important than an April Fools’ joke. Just like I was less important than his “bro-girl” best friend. I reached down and slid off the matching promise ring we had both worn for the last six years. “Then let’s break up.” The sharp clink of the silver ring hitting the hardwood floor silenced the entire VIP room. Liam frowned slightly, looking annoyed. “Stop being dramatic. It’s just a little frosting. I’ll help you wash it off when we get home. You know how Chloe is, she used to go way harder with her pranks. She actually held back for you.” “I went through a lot of trouble to get you out here. Don’t make me look like a whipped, spineless boyfriend in front of my friends.” Chloe immediately put on a pouting, victimized face. “Geez, Elena, it was just a joke. If you hate it so much, we won’t play anymore, okay? There’s no need to threaten a breakup over it.” “I told you guys she couldn’t take a joke, but you insisted on inviting her. Now look what happened.” She crossed her arms and threw herself onto the leather sofa, looking incredibly put out. Instantly, the glares from the rest of the friend group turned cold and hostile toward me. Chloe was the only girl in their tight-knit frat-bro circle. She was the undisputed princess of the group. If she was unhappy, everyone scrambled to coddle her. Liam was no exception. The very first time I met her, she organized a game of Truth or Dare. Everyone else’s dares were harmless, stupid pranks—like singing loudly in the street. But when it was my turn, she dared me to fake an orgasm in front of the entire room. I quietly said I wasn’t comfortable with that kind of inappropriate punishment. Chloe instantly burst into tears and ran out of the bar. The entire group of guys sprinted out after her. Including Liam. What was supposed to be my welcome party ended with me sitting alone at an empty table. Liam didn’t say anything about it afterward, but from that day on, he never brought me to another group hangout unless Chloe explicitly gave him permission. Liam glared at me, his brow furrowed in a stern warning. “Elena, apologize to Chloe.” If this were the past—if I was still desperately trying to fit in, still terrified of embarrassing Liam in front of his boys—I would have swallowed my pride. I would have proactively apologized and explained myself before he even had to ask. But right now, seeing that me threatening to end our six-year relationship carried less weight than Chloe looking slightly annoyed… I finally understood. From the very beginning, my place in his heart was inherently inferior to his “purely platonic” bond with his female best friend. I picked up the expensive trench coat and the designer handbag I had bought specifically to impress his parents later this week. I looked back at their judgmental, scrutinizing faces. “Liam. We’re done. I mean it. It’s over.” I turned and walked out, my brand-new heels clicking unsteadily against the floor. As the heavy door swung shut behind me, I could faintly hear Chloe’s teasing laughter from inside. “Are you really not going to chase after your little stage-five clinger?” Liam let out a cold, arrogant scoff. “She’s just throwing a tantrum to get attention. If I actually chased her, what would happen to you?” “Besides, she doesn’t have anyone else in this city to rely on but me. She’s easy to handle.” My heart, already burning and raw, was sliced wide open. His words were like freezing wind scraping against an open wound. Six years ago, Liam had stood in this exact same restaurant and confessed his love to me, swearing I was the only woman for him. Truthfully, it took a lot of effort for him to win me over. When I was fifteen, both of my parents remarried and started new families. I became the unwanted baggage that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Because of that, I was terrified of dating. I was terrified of the idea of a family. I rejected him five times. The final time, a creep started stalking me while I was walking back to my lonely, empty apartment at night. Liam appeared out of nowhere and fought the guy off. He took a knife to the arm in the process and ended up in the ER. After the nurse finished stitching him up, his eyes suddenly turned red. “Elena, why do you have to be so fiercely independent? Can’t you just let me protect you?” In that single moment, the ice around my heart melted. I thought to myself: Maybe… maybe dating someone this reliable and gentle wouldn’t be so bad. That very night, he asked me to meet him at that restaurant and officially asked me to be his girlfriend. When I said yes, this usually sophisticated, composed guy picked me up and spun me around like a massive, goofy golden retriever. We spun until we were both dizzy and collapsed laughing onto the floor. He wrapped his strong arms around me, shielding me from the hard ground. We sat on the concrete steps outside the restaurant, and he swore to the moon that as long as he was around, I would never be lonely, and I would never be abandoned again. But tonight, the deepest, most vulnerable wounds I had ever exposed to him—wounds that had barely begun to scar over—were violently ripped open by the exact same man. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. I opened my email app on my phone and clicked on an unread message from five days ago. It was a corporate transfer offer to our company’s headquarters on the East Coast. The offer expired at midnight. I typed my reply: [I accept the transfer to the New York HQ.] It turned out those words weren’t actually that hard to type. I looked up at the moon, half-hidden behind thin, wispy clouds. Liam. I’m actually not easy to handle at all. And I don’t need you to handle me anymore. My train ticket to New York was booked for the afternoon of the 2nd. I didn’t have much time left. As soon as I got back to the apartment, I quickly washed the sticky, smelling frosting off my skin and started packing my life away. I didn’t have a lot of things. It was mostly just clothes and a few personal items. I managed to fit everything into two suitcases—one large, one small. At 3:00 AM, I booked a nearby hotel for the night. Just as I grabbed the handle of my suitcase to leave, the front door swung open. Liam stumbled in, completely exhausted from partying. He dumped a blackout-drunk Chloe onto our living room sofa, then handed me a plastic grocery bag filled with fresh pears. “Perfect timing, you’re still awake. She had way too much to drink. Go boil some pear and ginger tea for her hangover, otherwise she’s going to be throwing up all night.” I stood perfectly still, not moving a muscle. When we first moved in together years ago, he came home completely trashed from a frat reunion, throwing up constantly. My heart ached for him. I woke up at 2:00 AM to brew him a traditional hangover remedy on the stove. But the cheap clay pot I was using couldn’t handle the heat. It shattered violently. Boiling water and sharp ceramic shards exploded all over me, burning my arms and chest. When he saw what happened, the alcohol instantly left his system. He looked at my burns with absolute, agonizing guilt. From that day forward, he never let me step foot in the kitchen again. Even when he was sick with the flu and craving homemade chicken noodle soup, he would rather order overpriced delivery than let me turn on the stove. For the last few years, I hadn’t cooked a single meal. He even washed and peeled the fruit before handing it to me. To this day, there was a custom wooden sign hanging on the kitchen door that he had carved himself: [DANGER ZONE: ELENA IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN.] I let out a cynical chuckle and tossed the plastic bag of pears directly into the trash can. “Sorry. Not my job. If she wants a hangover cure, she can order it on UberEats.” With that, I grabbed the handles of my suitcases and stepped toward the door. He suddenly lunged forward, grabbing my wrist and shoving me aggressively against the heavy wooden door. “Alright, Elena, enough. It was fine when you were just venting at the restaurant, but packing your bags? I already told you, it was an April Fools’ joke. Stop throwing a tantrum.” “I know you want to get married. I want to, too. Next year. I promise we will officially tie the knot next year, okay?” The smell of stale alcohol washed over my neck as he breathed heavily. But unlike every other time in the past, his half-hearted coaxing didn’t work. I shoved him away with both hands and delivered a sharp, echoing slap directly across his cheek. “Liam, I was incredibly clear. We are broken up. I am never marrying you!” The sharp crack of the slap didn’t just stun Liam; it also managed to partially wake up the drunk girl on the couch. Chloe stumbled to her feet, swaying violently, and charged at me. She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Who the hell do you think you are?! Who gave you the right to hit Liam?!” “If you want to break up, then break up! There are a million better girls out there! You… you’re literally a nobody!” A burning, stinging pain exploded across my cheek. My eyes turned red with fury. I raised my hand, ready to slap her back into next week. But Liam violently grabbed my wrist mid-air, twisting it and shoving me backward. The small of my back slammed brutally into the metal doorknob. A sharp, paralyzing pain shot through my spine. He stood protectively in front of Chloe, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance. “She’s blackout drunk. Are you seriously going to pick a physical fight with a drunk person?” “Just… get out of here. Go cool off. We’ll talk about this tomorrow when you’re acting rational.” I stared at him in absolute disbelief. He looked so incredibly indifferent, as if I were just some random, unreasonable stranger causing a scene in his home. He didn’t spare me a second glance. He immediately turned his attention back to the slurring, stumbling Chloe, his voice dropping into a soft, gentle whisper to calm her down. He saved every ounce of his tenderness for her. I dug my fingernails into my palms until they nearly bled. I grabbed my suitcases and walked out the door. I checked into the nearest Marriott. I didn’t manage to close my eyes until the sun started to rise. When I woke up, my phone was exploding with notifications. Aside from the generic mass texts about April Fools’ pranks, most of the messages were from coworkers and friends asking why I hadn’t shown up to work, and fishing for gossip about whether Liam had finally popped the question. My heart gave a dull, painful throb. I sent a mass reply saying simply, [We broke up,] feeling a deep, suffocating exhaustion settling into my bones. The ping-ping-ping of incoming texts continued. Some people thought it was a belated April Fools’ joke. Some said it was impossible. Some even told me to stop acting like a spoiled brat just because I was disappointed about the proposal. After all, in their eyes, Liam was the perfect man. Gentle, reliable, and incredibly successful. He was the ultimate safety net. A rare, high-value catch. But they didn’t know the reality of this “perfect man.” For our four-year anniversary, he set up a ridiculously romantic, elaborate proposal fake-out, specifically to lower my guard so his “bro-girl” could drop a realistic, terrifying rubber snake on my lap. For our five-year anniversary, he used a novelty trick ring Chloe had bought online to “propose.” I spent that night in the ER with the fire department using heavy machinery to cut the metal off my finger before it went necrotic. Yes, he had the ability to be an incredible safety net. But I wasn’t the person he was catching. In the past, I had automatically, delusionally blocked out all these massive red flags. I kept gaslighting myself, repeating: Aside from Chloe, he treats me like a queen. But once the fog finally cleared, I realized that a relationship like this—even if it ended in a proposal—was a dead end. I let out a bitter laugh and absentmindedly opened Instagram. Amidst the sea of predictable April Fools’ posts, the most prominent update was a massive photo dump from Chloe. Liam had taken her to a luxury movie theater, won her a massive teddy bear at the arcade, and played laser tag with her. Even though he technically always prioritized Chloe’s April Fools’ prank before celebrating our actual anniversary the next day… He had never, ever taken me to do any of those things. He always told me that arcades and laser tag were immature wastes of time for teenagers. He insisted that taking a pottery class or watching an indie documentary at home was much more “meaningful.” I had genuinely believed that was just his mature, sophisticated personality showing through. So, I actively suppressed all my youthful, silly desires from my first real relationship to match his energy. But now, looking at the photos of him laughing so brightly, so carefree, surrounded by neon arcade lights… I finally realized that those activities weren’t boring. He just found them boring when he was doing them with me. The comment section under Chloe’s post was an endless stream of people saying how cute they looked together. All of our mutual friends had liked the post. It had more likes than the post we made when we officially announced we were dating. Just as I was about to force-close the app, a text message popped up at the top of my screen. It was from Liam. [Don’t overthink the photos. I just took her out to burn off the hangover. If you have time, come back to the apartment. She said she wants to apologize to you.] I frowned deeply, my thumbs flying across the keyboard to type: [Don’t bother.] But suddenly, a delivery notification popped up from Amazon. The anniversary gift I had ordered for him weeks ago had just been signed for. I had used the apartment as the shipping address. I thought about it for a second. It was best to get total closure. I also needed to drop my set of keys on the counter. A clean, definitive break. I threw on some basic clothes and caught an Uber back to the apartment building. But the exact second I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, a massive splash of freezing, chemically-smelling liquid hit me directly in the face. A violent, burning sensation instantly erupted across my cheeks. “SURPRISE! HAPPY LATE APRIL FOOLS’!” Before I could even wipe my eyes, Chloe charged at me. She was holding a rough microfiber makeup remover cloth, aggressively scrubbing and dragging it across my face. The burning sensation intensified exponentially, accompanied by a terrifying, agonizing itch that felt like thousands of tiny insects chewing into my skin. It felt like my face was being physically peeled off. I violently shoved her away. I instinctively reached up to scratch my face, but the second my fingers made contact, a blinding, piercing pain shot through my nerves. “Cough… cough… my face… what is that?!” Liam sprinted out of the kitchen, grabbing my wrists forcefully to stop me from scratching. His voice was laced with genuine panic and fury. “Chloe! You said it was just micellar water! Why is her face breaking out in hives?!” Chloe’s face flushed a deep, guilty red. “I… I don’t know! I just grabbed a random bottle from the bathroom! Besides, she’s always wearing that pathetic, innocent ‘no-makeup makeup’ look trying to compete with me! I hate it! And you told me yourself you didn’t like how it looked, which is why you agreed to let me prank her!” My entire body was trembling uncontrollably. My limbs were going numb, and my airway was beginning to tighten. “And you really thought… she actually wanted to apologize to me?! Liam… you are a psychopathic monster. You don’t even deserve the phrase ‘clean break’!” Gasping for air, I tried to stumble toward the bathroom to wash my face. But after taking a single step, the world violently spun, and everything went black. “ELENA! ELENA, WAKE UP!” When I finally regained consciousness, the sun had already set. The burning, throbbing pain on my cheeks was still incredibly intense. While I was fading in and out in the ER, I vaguely remembered the doctors telling me I had suffered severe chemical burns and required several stitches on my chin and right cheek where the skin had split from the aggressive scrubbing. My shifting on the hospital bed woke Liam, who had been dozing in the chair next to me. “Elena, thank God you’re awake. You terrified me. The doctor said you had a severe anaphylactic shock reaction to an industrial-strength disinfectant.” “She genuinely wanted to apologize to you today. But you know how stubborn and defensive she is. Her actions were definitely out of line, but she honestly didn’t mean to hurt you this badly. Please don’t be too angry with her, okay?” His voice was frantic, tumbling over itself. But in all his desperate words, there wasn’t a single shred of concern about whether I would be permanently scarred, or whether I was in excruciating pain or feeling insecure about my ruined face. All of his energy was focused entirely on exonerating her. I looked at him. I looked at the face of the man I had loved so deeply for six years, and suddenly, he looked like a complete, terrifying stranger. Tears silently spilled over my lashes and slid down my bandaged cheeks. “I’m not angry. I just feel an overwhelming sense of regret. I never, ever should have dated you.” His body stiffened. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, his phone screen lit up on the nightstand. Liam glanced at the caller ID—[The Tyrant]—and instantly swallowed whatever he was going to say. “I need to step out for a second. Get some rest. I’ll be right back.” He practically sprinted out the door. Driven by some dark, masochistic curiosity, I quietly slipped out of bed and followed him. Through the narrow crack of the heavy fire-escape door at the end of the hall. He was sitting on the concrete stairs right next to Chloe. “It’s okay, don’t beat yourself up over it. She’s not going to stay mad. She always forgives us eventually. She always has.” Chloe lightly punched him in the shoulder. “If she can’t even handle this, imagine how nuclear she would go if she found out the only reason you asked her out was because you lost a bet with the guys! And that the only reason you chose April Fools’ Day to propose was because we picked it out as a joke!” In that singular moment, it felt like a flashbang had detonated inside my skull. A deafening, high-pitched ringing drowned out every other sound in the universe. Liam frantically clamped his hand over her mouth, looking around the stairwell in a panic. “SHH! Keep your voice down! That was six years ago! Take that secret to your grave!” My legs completely gave out. It felt as though every single bone in my body had been violently magically extracted. I couldn’t even stand up. The questions that had been haunting me like ghosts for years finally had their answers. Why, when forced to choose, I always lost to Chloe. Why Liam, who claimed to love me so deeply, always enabled and permitted her to abuse me. I had delusionally believed he was just overly loyal to his “found family” of frat brothers. I never, ever imagined that every single thing he had ever given me was a fabricated, toxic lie. Even the moment I thought was the beginning of my salvation… was built entirely on a humiliating, cruel joke. In their eyes, I was never Liam’s beloved girlfriend. I was just a pathetic, entertaining clown they kept around for laughs. In this moment, the last remaining shred of my dignity was completely, utterly annihilated. I pressed both hands forcefully over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. I had to leave. I had to escape this suffocating, artificial nightmare. I called an Uber, grabbed my suitcases from the hotel I had booked the night before, and went straight to Penn Station. I paid an exorbitant fee to change my ticket to the very next Amtrak train heading to the East Coast HQ. Just before I boarded the train, a text from Liam popped up on my phone. [The doctor said you need to be kept under observation. Don’t wander off. Where are you? I’m coming to find you.] Looking at his fake, hypocritical concern, I laughed until tears streamed down my face. I didn’t reply. I permanently blocked his number, and the numbers of every single one of his friends. Liam. I am officially resigning from your sick little April Fools’ game.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400792”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Right before the Christmas holidays, I texted Julian: [What day are you coming to my parents’ house?] Julian took a full four days to reply. [1] Unable to suppress my fury, I took a screenshot of the chat and posted it on Reddit, asking the internet to judge: Is this a boyfriend, or a broken chatbot? The replies were brutal: “Definitely a boyfriend. ChatGPT isn’t this stupid; even AI knows how to ask how your day was.” “That’s harsh, but true.” “Why are you even with this guy? Are you keeping him around just so you don’t have to be single for the holidays?” “Don’t bother telling her, OP is obviously obsessed. She didn’t dump him immediately, she’s posting on Reddit asking for advice. She’s still holding out hope for this robot.” I let out a bitter laugh. The comments weren’t wrong. I was actually still waiting for Julian to send a real reply. [You said you were terrified of marriage, and I waited for you for seven years. This year, you finally said you were ready to meet my parents. What is this silent treatment supposed to mean?] [Are you coming or not? Give me a straight answer!] While waiting for him to reply, I was scrolling through TikTok and stumbled across a viral video. The caption read: [My boss agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend for the holidays to get my parents off my back. Which outfit should he wear?] The video was a slideshow of eight photos. In every single one, the man’s outfit was perfectly color-coordinated to match the girl’s outfit. It was obvious the guy had put a lot of thought into it. The comments were flooded with people shipping them: [OMG, my favorite CEO x Assistant trope is finally hitting the ‘meet the parents’ arc?!] When I swiped to the sixth photo, I froze. The custom cufflinks on the man’s tailored suit… were the exact ones I had custom-designed specifically for Julian. At that exact moment, a notification popped up from Julian. It was another cold, single-character reply: [1]. I stared at that “1” for a long time. It felt utterly ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as I had been for the past seven years, constantly dropping hints that I wanted to get married. I closed his chat thread and opened my blocked contacts list. I unblocked a contact saved as: “Crazy European Stalker.” [Come to my parents’ house on December 27th. Meet the family.] [We’re getting married after the holidays.] He replied instantly: [YES! Booking my flight right now!] Julian, you don’t need to come anymore. You never have to come again. I opened Julian’s chat thread again. That glaring “1” was still the most recent message. What was the point of this? It took me seven years just to force him to agree to meet my parents for the holidays. Was I supposed to spend the next seven years forcing him to marry me? And another seven forcing him to have kids? “Let’s break up,” I typed definitively, and hit send. I put my phone down and started packing. We started dating freshman year of college. We’d been together for ten years, living together for eight. We had accumulated a mountain of stuff. But once I made the absolute decision to leave, packing went faster than any time I had moved before. Throw away the trash. Donate the rest. Soon, the three-bedroom apartment that used to be crammed with our lives felt hollow and empty. I efficiently booked a moving company and had my boxes hauled to a small, one-bedroom condo I had bought a few years ago as an investment property. With that, the physical ties to this relationship were severed. Right before I walked out the door, I took one last look around the apartment we had lived in the longest—the place we had originally planned to renovate into our marital home. A sudden, sharp wave of sorrow washed over my chest. Ten years. Just like that, it was over, ending with barely a whisper. After finishing the move, I rolled my suitcase into the airport terminal. Right then, my phone chimed with a notification tone I had assigned specifically to Julian. Despite everything, a spark of hope uncontrollably flared up, and my thumb tapped the notification faster than my brain could process it. [1] “Ha.” I let out a sharp, neurotic laugh, then immediately permanently blocked his number. The soft, acoustic music playing in the airport coffee shop filtered through the air. I thought about the last ten years. We had sweet moments, and we had brutal fights. Ending things now was probably the only way to honor how serious we used to be about each other. I couldn’t wait until Julian’s little assistant showed up at my door to finally wake up. That would be way too pathetic. While lost in thought, I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. A new post popped up on my feed. I tapped it out of habit. It was from Chloe, Julian’s young executive assistant. [AHHHHH! My boss agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend to help me deal with my parents pressuring me to get married! I am the luckiest girl in the world!] [You guys don’t even know, Mr. Vance spent forever picking out outfits just so he could come home with me for the holidays~ Who says guys hate shopping? I am so exhausted!] Attached was a carousel of nine photos showcasing Julian in different outfits. They were casual, yet still radiated that subtle, expensive aura. Hoodies, distressed denim, crisp white sneakers. It was a complete 180 from his usual, overly formal style. Just as I pressed the buttons to take a screenshot, the post vanished. She had deleted it. I let out a self-deprecating laugh, remembering when I first met Julian in college. As the Student Body President, he was already strictly adhering to a wardrobe of button-downs and slacks. I used to beg him to wear matching couple’s outfits with me, but he always refused. “My position in student government doesn’t allow me to wear that kind of flashy, childish clothing. Stop being unreasonable.” Since when were hoodies and jeans considered flashy and childish? I stared at the screenshots of Julian dressed like a frat boy, sharp pangs of pain radiating through my chest. Even though I had already broken up with him, my emotions were still being dragged around by him. The airport PA system announced my flight. I stood up and joined the boarding line. I had been taking this flight home for the holidays alone for ten years. I had been asking him to come home to meet my parents for five years. But Chloe? She had only been interning under Julian for six months. It doesn’t matter anymore, Julian. From now on, you’ll never have to rack your brain trying to invent excuses to reject me again. The plane was incredibly quiet, especially since it was a red-eye flight. Surrounded by hundreds of people, I was suddenly drowning in an overwhelming sense of isolation. I opened up the TikTok account I had accidentally discovered belonging to Chloe. Sure enough, she had posted a new storytime video titled: “When the one who loves you doesn’t need to be asked, he just knows.” “The second my boss heard my parents had set me up on a blind date for the holidays, he panicked! I hadn’t even brought up the idea of finding a fake boyfriend yet, and he volunteered to come home with me to deal with my parents!” “Omg guys, I think I’ve turned into one of those girls who gets a crush on their strict camp counselor, or falls in love with their manager. I’m so obsessed.” “But my boss treats me so incredibly well… What am I supposed to do if I’m catching real feelings?” The comments were a unified wall of encouragement and shipping. “Girl, your boss is built like a model and has the face of a CEO. He’s young, successful, and making the first move. How could you not catch feelings?!” “Verdict: OP is an oblivious, innocent sweetheart. Your boss is practically throwing himself at you, you just need to open your eyes!” “Agreed! I’ve been following OP for six months, checking every day wondering when she’s finally going to get it… When are you going to change your handle from ‘Intern Chloe Grinding Daily’ to ‘Sweet Daily Life with my CEO Hubby’?” “OP, confess your feelings right now! You guys are obviously just one step away from making it official!” … We had been together for ten years. How could I not have noticed Julian drifting away? I was just… so tired. Julian was strongly opposed to marriage. I found this out the year we graduated college. I thought about it for a week, and ultimately decided to break up with him. “I’m an only child. If I don’t get married, my parents, my grandparents—my entire family—would be absolutely devastated.” Julian’s face had gone ghostly white. “Do you really not care about me at all?” “What good does caring do?!” I had been furious—angry that he had hidden his stance against marriage. “I can’t just be your girlfriend for the rest of my life!” Julian scrambled for excuses. “Your life belongs to you. You shouldn’t have to carry the burden of your parents’ or your family’s expectations.” I held up a hand to stop him. “Who said this was just their expectation? We used to talk about having one kid and giving them all our love.” “This is what I want. I want a family. I love kids.” I glared at him coldly. “So, all those times you agreed with me, were you just talking out of your ass?” Julian had nothing to say. After that argument, we unofficially broke up. But a month later, he showed up at my corporate housing. Looking gaunt and pale, he held out a bouquet of flowers. “Anna, I don’t want to lose you.” He spoke with intense gravity. “Can you just give me some time? At least right now, I am absolutely not ready to step into a marriage.” My heart softened. He was, after all, my first love. “I never said we had to get married right this second.” “Are you sure about this?” I asked him. “Don’t change your views on marriage or your life plans just for someone else.” Julian’s deep, expressive eyes welled up. “Compared to getting married, I’m much more terrified of losing you.” He paused. “Anna, wait for me.” “I will get over this fear.” And so I waited. For seven years. I didn’t want to wait anymore. After walking out of the airport and grabbing my suitcase, I was about to call an Uber. To my surprise, the second I stepped out of the sliding doors, I got a call from my dad. “Sweetie, did you land?” “I’m parked by the bus stop near Exit 1. Walk toward this side when you get out.” “Okay, got it.” I was a little shocked. Aside from my first two years of college, my dad had never come to pick me up from the airport. “I just walked out, I’m heading your way.” I rolled my suitcase down the sidewalk and spotted my parents leaning against their SUV from a mile away, scanning the crowd. When they saw me, they rushed over. My dad grabbed my bag to put it in the trunk, while my mom kept stretching her neck, looking behind me. Seeing how eager they were, I was suddenly very glad I had called in a ringer. “Dad, Mom—” I opened the back door. “My boyfriend isn’t coming until the 27th. Stop looking.” “Oh, right, right, right—” My mom slapped her thigh. “Today’s only Christmas Eve. We gotta let the boy spend Christmas with his own family first.” My dad slapped the steering wheel. “That Julian kid is thirty now. Glad he finally realized he needs to step up.” I pursed my lips, cutting off their excited chatter about their future son-in-law Julian. “I broke up with Julian.” “I’m dating someone new. His name is Arthur.” “Make sure you get the name right.” My dad, completely ignoring the fact that he was currently driving, whipped his head around to stare at me. “But when you called last week, you said Julian was away on a business trip—” “Watch the road!” My mom expertly shoved his head back toward the windshield. “It’s not you getting a new boyfriend, why are you panicking? Our daughter said he’s coming on the 27th, so we’ll meet him on the 27th! You’re driving like a maniac, people are going to think you’ve been chugging eggnog…” I laid back against the rear seats, silently listening to my mom scold my dad. She was right. Just last week on the phone, I had told them Julian was coming home with me this year. It was a massive sudden change for them. I expected them to interrogate me, but they just bickered with each other and completely skipped over the topic. Tears blurred my vision, because I felt overwhelmingly, unconditionally loved. I dozed off in the car. When we pulled into the driveway, I was swarmed by relatives before I even stepped out of the vehicle. My grandmother on my dad’s side had five kids; my grandmother on my mom’s side had six. Both of my parents were the youngest, most spoiled children in their respective massive families. Consequently, my marital status had always been a high-priority issue for both sides of the family tree. My oldest cousin was bouncing his new grandson. “This year, I specifically brought the baby over so you and your man could get some good luck! Once you’re married, hurry up and have a kid so my aunt can finally relax.” “We will, we will. Very soon.” My two older female cousins stuck their heads into the car, looking around. “This new boyfriend of yours doesn’t seem to know the rules. How can he drag his feet like this?” They clicked their tongues in disapproval. “If he had any sense, he would have shown up today with gifts in hand. You’re treating him like a prince.” “Yeah, seriously. He’s really lacking etiquette.” My aunts and uncles crowded closer. “Where’s the new boyfriend? He didn’t come today?” “Not today. He’s coming on the 27th.” … My youngest aunt finally pulled me out of the mob. “Give the guy a break! Christmas Day and Boxing Day are for his own family! Anna already said he’s coming on the 27th. Why are you guys so impatient? Let the poor girl rest first.” Even in the freezing winter air, I was sweating from the interrogation. Crap. This Arthur guy, this European aristocrat… does he have any idea how to handle the sheer force of an American extended family? The 25th and 26th were a blur of visiting relatives’ houses. When I finally collapsed onto my bed to rest, my phone rang with an unknown number. I answered, exhausted. “Hello?” “It’s me.” It was Julian. Before I could even process it, his aggrieved voice came through the speaker. “You blocked me.” “Yeah,” I replied calmly. “We broke up. Am I supposed to keep you unblocked so I can like your Instagram posts?” “I admit I was wrong! But Anna, can you please just give me a little more time… I’m still not ready.” “You’ve done a lot of wrong things. Which one are you talking about?” I asked coldly. “You promised me you would come home with me for the holidays. If you couldn’t do it, why did you agree? And even if you changed your mind at the last minute, why didn’t you just communicate that to me?” “Ever since you agreed to come home, you either left my messages on read or ignored them completely. Go search our chat history and see how many times you just replied with ‘1’ this past year.” “You said you were terrified of marriage, that you didn’t want to meet my parents. I gave you time to prepare. Seven years! A full seven years.” I took a breath. “I was understanding and respectful of your boundaries. And you turned around and went to your assistant’s hometown with her for the holidays.” There was a loud crash over the phone, followed by Julian’s sharp intake of breath. “Ah!” “How did you know… no, wait, let me explain!” “I just came here to help Chloe avoid her parents trying to force her into an arranged marriage. She’s only 21, she shouldn’t have to…” I was sick of hearing it. I cut him off sharply. “I don’t want to hear it!” “We are already broken up. I do not want to hear your excuses!” Julian was both anxious and angry. “I admit that breaking my promise to you was my fault, but can you at least give me a chance to explain? We agreed that if we had issues, we’d talk them out. We never went to bed angry.” He was still avoiding the subject of Chloe entirely. I didn’t want to waste my precious downtime on him anymore. “There’s nothing left to explain. Julian, you deceived me about your stance on marriage, you broke your promises, you deflected blame, and you took absolutely zero accountability.” “I am unilaterally informing you: we are broken up. That’s it.” I finished speaking, immediately hung up, and blocked the number. When it came to Julian, I knew in my soul that I owed him absolutely nothing. My parents were childhood sweethearts who married for love. Their relationship was beautiful and full of mutual grace. I always believed that in a relationship, you need respect, grace, and mutual understanding. I gave Julian seven years. That was more than enough. I shifted to get comfortable and go back to sleep. A notification popped up on WhatsApp. It was Chloe, complaining that I was being too heartless. [Ms. Anna, you’ve completely misunderstood Mr. Vance.] [He really only came back with me to help me out. My parents are super traditional and are trying to force me to get married before I even graduate college.] [You’re a woman too, you should be able to understand what I’m going through.] [Mr. Vance bought a red-eye plane ticket just so he could explain things to you in person. He hasn’t slept properly in days, and he has to fly out again tonight.] [Ms. Anna, you’re his girlfriend. Don’t you feel bad for him at all?] [I am so grateful to Mr. Vance. He’s taught me so much, and I genuinely want you two to be happy together.] I forwarded her the link to her own TikTok video and added a single question: [Do Intern Chloe’s followers know she’s knowingly sleeping with her boss while he has a girlfriend of ten years?] Chloe went completely silent. She just frantically started deleting her TikTok videos. I put my phone down, deeply satisfied, and slept a dreamless sleep. The next day, I didn’t drag myself out of bed until right before lunch. Just as I opened my bedroom door, I heard a massive commotion coming from the living room. Curious, I washed my face and headed downstairs. Halfway down, I saw my entire extended family crowded around a tall, blonde man in a trench coat, treating him like royalty. “… Arthur?” I blurted his name out in shock. Across the room, the man flamboyantly swept his long hair back, turned around, and walked toward me. My relatives parted like the Red Sea, creating a clear path for him. Arthur stopped in front of me. Standing three steps up, I was a head taller than him. He bowed deeply in an exaggerated, aristocratic greeting. “At your service.” “My leading lady has finally awakened.” He took off his sunglasses, his trench coat flaring out dramatically. “Five years have passed, My Miss Ophelia.” “AHHHHH! He is so handsome! Is he like, a prince from another country?!” “Blonde hair! Six-foot-four! A Maybach! Auntie Anna really scored!” My nieces and nephews were clutching their chests and screaming. My cousin’s husband scratched his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. This guy is ridiculously good-looking.” My youngest aunt smiled maternally. “He’s very handsome. He’s definitely worthy of our Anna.” My dad grabbed Arthur’s arm. “Come on, let’s finish our game of chess. For a foreigner, you’re pretty damn good at this!” My mom rushed up the stairs and practically dragged me back into my room. “Good lord! Why did you come out here in your pajamas?! Hurry up, put on some makeup and change your clothes!” She started tearing through my closet. “You wear a trench coat too!” “You’re both tall, you both have great skin. The kids you have are going to be gorgeous! Hey, what do they call kids from different races? Mixed-race, right? Will they be American or European?” “This new boyfriend of yours has purple eyes! That’s so exotic! If it weren’t for him, I would have thought the world only had brown and blue eyes. If your kids inherit his eyes, that would be amazing. What’s the saying? ‘Rare things are precious’!” She was clearly lost in her own fantasy world. I didn’t interrupt her. My parents had deflected the family’s pressure to get married for five or six years, and they had never once pressured me themselves. I threw on a trench coat, pulled on some knee-high boots, and did some light makeup. My mom finally breathed a sigh of relief. “Take him around and introduce him to everyone. Don’t go wandering off, lunch is almost ready.” I agreed to everything and followed her downstairs. Arthur was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, good-naturedly chatting with the younger generation of my family. He really didn’t look like the psychotic maniac who, after being rejected, had tried to hold me hostage. Hearing us, he turned and held out a hand to help me down the last step. “Anna, I waited for you for a very long time.” I swatted his hand away. “Drop the theatrical act.” He didn’t get mad. He just smiled happily and squeezed in right next to me. “Your relatives are fascinating. They all really like me.” I grabbed his hand. “That’s because you’re my boyfriend.” “Follow me. I’m going to introduce you to everyone. Just repeat whatever I call them.” “It’s fine if you don’t remember their names. Just make a good impression.” Arthur looked down at our joined hands, absolutely thrilled, and agreed repeatedly. “Darling, whatever you say.” I shot him a sideways glance. What a two-faced chameleon. In reality, my nieces weren’t completely wrong. Arthur actually was a prince. More accurately, he was now a Duke. The first time I met him was during a road trip to a historic town. He was hitchhiking on the side of the road, looking like a total mess, and I pulled over. The second time was at a corporate trade negotiation. I was just a junior associate shadowing my manager to learn the ropes, and he was the lead executive for the opposing European conglomerate. Back then, I thought he was a stern, unsmiling, strictly-business type of guy. The third time, I was the lead negotiator. Due to business requirements, we started interacting a lot more. Then, we exchanged social media handles and became friends. And then… he suddenly confessed his love for me. When I rejected him, he actually had me kidnapped and taken to some undisclosed mansion. I had been furious. “This is how you show you like someone?! By violating my consent and holding me against my will?!” “We just need to spend more time together. You’ll fall in love with me eventually,” he stared at me, dangerously stubborn. “Also, I would never physically harm you.” I was rendered speechless by his bizarre, archaic views on romance. “I don’t care where you learned how to treat women, but let me make one thing crystal clear, Arthur.” “Any real relationship has to be built on free will. Affection that isn’t freely given is just submission.” “That kind of connection will evaporate the second it’s tested. Do you really want that kind of fake love?” Honestly, I hadn’t held out much hope that reasoning with him would work. After all, psychopaths aren’t exactly known for logic. To my absolute shock, after listening to me, he looked thoughtful for a moment… and then just let me go. After unlocking the ankle monitor he had put on me, he even hosted a lavish dinner for me. Before putting me in a car to send me home, he announced that he was going to pursue me properly. He pursued me relentlessly and flamboyantly for an entire year. I eventually blocked him on every single platform. Later, he told me he had to return to Europe to attend the Queen’s funeral and, coincidentally, inherit a title. That was when I found out he was literal aristocracy. On the day he left, he said, “Ophelia, you have no idea how much of a miracle your presence in my life has been.” “I beg of you, if you ever decide to get married… please consider me.” I had to admit, while his methods were deeply unhinged, he definitely made a lasting impression. Which was why, when I needed someone to swoop in and play the role of the fiancé, he was the very first person who came to mind. I led him from the living room to the kitchen, from the garden to my dad’s study. By the end of the tour, the pockets of his trench coat were stuffed with red envelopes filled with cash—traditional Chinese holiday gifts from my relatives. Halfway through the tour, when his pockets were literally overflowing, I had to find a gift bag for him to carry the rest of the envelopes. Once the tour was over and we were back in my room, Arthur started opening the red envelopes, looking absolutely ecstatic. “I love Chinese traditions. Especially the red envelopes.” I casually replied, “Well, when you get married, you’ll have to give out a lot of red envelopes yourself.” Arthur looked up at me, suddenly deadly serious. “So, when are we getting married?” I froze. “Uh,” I shifted uncomfortably under his expectant gaze. Usually, I was the one asking that question. “Whenever it’s convenient for you, I guess…” He stopped counting the cash, stood up, and pressed me. “I read that traditional Chinese weddings require a matchmaker and formal betrothal gifts! Tell me exactly what I need to do, Ophelia. I want to marry you as soon as possible.” I laughed. “It’s not that traditional anymore!” “Ophelia, marriage is incredibly sacred. I need you to take this seriously!” Being stared down by those deep purple eyes was making me a little nervous. “Okay, I…” “Anna! Arthur! Come downstairs, it’s time to eat!” My mom’s shout from downstairs interrupted us. We exchanged a look. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Food first, everything else later.” I grabbed his hand and ran downstairs. At the dinner table, Arthur ate while seriously and politely answering all my relatives’ questions. He was handling the interrogation perfectly. Suddenly, he turned to my mom. “Mrs. Evans.” “What exactly do I need to do to marry in America?” “Anna is bullying me. She won’t tell me.” “Mrs. Evans, I want to marry Anna very badly. I am willing to… become a stay-at-home husband. Please, let me be a stay-at-home husband.” The entire table went dead silent. My mom stared at Arthur, her jaw hanging open. “Huh? Oh… wow, I… uh…” She shot me a frantic look. I actually managed to translate it instantly: [What does this mean?! You don’t want to marry him?! This kid is offering to be a stay-at-home husband! Opportunities like this don’t just fall out of the sky! What are you thinking?! Give me an answer!] I sighed helplessly. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, my uncle strolled into the dining room, hands behind his back. “Oh! You guys are eating.” He pointed out the front door. “There’s a young guy out there claiming to be Anna’s boyfriend. I brought him inside.” “Anna,” he coughed awkwardly. “I know you’re a beautiful girl, but we have to have some morals here. You can’t be dating two guys at the same time! You’re treating these boys like fish in a pond!” Holy crap. Did Julian actually show up?! I shot up from my chair and practically sprinted toward the front door. Arthur immediately abandoned his food and followed right behind me. It really was him. The second I saw Julian, I wanted to grab a shovel and bury him in the septic tank! “What are you doing here?” I hissed, keeping my voice low. Arthur shadowed me closely, standing right at my shoulder. Julian didn’t answer me. He glared at Arthur and demanded, “Who is he?” Arthur grabbed my hand, standing silently and protectively behind me. The residual anger I had been harboring instantly vanished—I hadn’t even cheated on him, and I certainly hadn’t done anything to feel guilty about. What was I afraid of?! “He’s my boyfriend,” I stated calmly. “He’s here to meet my parents.” “Julian, all the promises you made? Someone else is here to fulfill them. You should be thanking him.” Arthur proudly puffed out his chest. Julian’s face twisted in agony. “What about me?” “Didn’t we break up?” “I already explained! Chloe was being forced into an arranged marriage—” “You don’t need to explain anything to me. The breakup is a done deal.” I was so sick of his cyclical, pathetic excuses. “If you had an issue with the breakup, you should have said something the day it happened. Not five days later.” I stared him down. “Do you remember what you replied?” Julian’s lips trembled, but he couldn’t speak. I answered for him. “1.” “You replied with a ‘1’.” “That means ‘Understood. Agreed,’” my niece, who was eavesdropping, helpfully explained to the older relatives standing nearby. My face instantly burned bright red. I turned around and realized that the wall next to the front gate was lined with the heads of my neighbors, all straining to listen in on the drama.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400791”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Chase Sterling and I were purely platonic friends for twenty-six years. We were inseparable, but he was a relentless player who couldn’t stand being alone. So, whenever he got a new girlfriend, I would proactively distance myself and cut contact. On my twenty-seventh birthday, Chase—likely annoyed by his family constantly pressuring him to settle down—showed up at my front door bright and early. “Quinn, why don’t we just make do with each other?” I was just about to curse him out when he added, “I’m serious.” For the first time ever, Chase crossed the boundary and held his hand out to me. I looked at him and thought about it for a few seconds. “Chase, if we cross this line and become a couple, we can never be friends again if we break up.” He gave me his signature, cocky grin. “We’re not going to break up. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” And so, I took his hand. That “making do” lasted for three years. At our engagement party, Chase and his frat brother, Tyler, sneaked out to the balcony for a smoke. “Chase, I know you originally asked Quinn to be your cover because you were terrified your grandfather would go after Lily. But looking at her today… I think Quinn is actually genuinely in love with you.” “You didn’t… forget to tell her this was all just for show, did you?” The hazy cigarette smoke obscured Chase’s face. His voice was cold and indifferent. “I was in a rush that day. I forgot.” My footsteps came to a dead halt right around the corner. In my hand, I was holding the cold medicine I had just bought for him. Tyler sounded horrified. His voice spiked as he called him a bastard, then leaned in closer to ask: “So what the hell is the situation with you and Quinn now? Are you actually marrying her or not?” “Because just yesterday, right before your engagement, I saw Lily post on her private story. You were at her apartment in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, cooking her late-night snacks.” Chase let out a low chuckle. “Lily is my real girlfriend, obviously.” “As for Quinn? She’s just a strategic business merger. What’s the difference between a real marriage and a fake one?” “I knew she liked me a long time ago. Giving her a picture-perfect marriage and the title of my wife… I’d say I’m treating her pretty damn well.” The glass of water in my hand grew so hot it burned my palm. I lowered my head, feeling incredibly pathetic. I realized the cold medicine tablets I was holding had already started melting into my sweaty skin. But what burned hotter was my face. It was the absolute, crushing humiliation of having my secret, years-long crush exposed, only to be mocked and trampled on. “You know what? Quinn is actually pretty clueless. I’ve been around the block enough times to know that nobody’s breathing hitches and refuses to make eye contact when they hold hands with a purely ‘business’ partner.” “She always acts so cool and indifferent, but she’s actually incredibly patient. She lets me get away with everything.” Chase coughed softly, a hint of smug bragging in his voice. “Two days before the engagement, I lied and told her I had an emergency business trip. She didn’t suspect a thing. She even packed my suitcase for me.” “Last night, Lily and I got a little crazy by the window. When I got home at 3 AM, my head was pounding, but all my meds were expired. Quinn literally threw a winter coat over her pajamas and ran out into the freezing cold to buy me medicine. Then she brewed me ginger tea and coaxed me to sleep.” “She woke up every half hour to feel my forehead, terrified I was running a fever.” “I don’t even think she realizes how obsessed with me she is.” Tyler sucked in a sharp breath. “Chase, she’s treated you like gold for years. I refuse to believe you haven’t caught even a tiny bit of feelings for her?” I stood outside the door. I felt like the biggest joke in the world. My eyes burned, and the tears threatened to spill. But I didn’t leave. I wanted to hear Chase’s answer. Without a single second of hesitation, Chase replied with dripping sarcasm. “What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I don’t.” “I’ve known Quinn for nearly thirty years. If we were going to happen, it would have happened a long time ago. I wouldn’t have waited until I was twenty-seven.” “My type has always been the sweet, innocent, soft girls. Quinn is a tough, cold badass. She completely misses every single box on my checklist.” “Love is something that hits you at first sight. I don’t believe in ‘growing to love someone over time.’ Even if you gave me another thirty years, I would never fall for her.” He took a deep drag of his cigarette, sounding completely self-righteous. “But Quinn is my best friend for life, and soon she’ll be my family. Even if I don’t love her, I’ll definitely make sure she’s taken care of.” “I want her, and I want Lily.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. But I couldn’t stop myself from smiling a bitter, hollow smile. What did Chase see me as? A convenient object he could just pick up and mold to his liking? Pick it up when he needed it, toss it aside when he didn’t. Just how pathetic and low did he think I was, to assume that marrying me was some kind of generous charity? Out on the balcony, Tyler sighed and patted Chase’s shoulder. “Let’s go back inside, man. The party is starting.” “So tonight, the plan is to introduce Lily as my cousin, right?” I turned my back and quickly hurried down the stairs. I sprinted into a vacant bathroom and dry-heaved over the sink. The tears fell faster than I could wipe them away, completely ruining my carefully done makeup. The emotions I had harbored for years suddenly felt like a putrid, suffocating swamp, pulling me under and making me physically sick. My phone buzzed constantly with group chat notifications. [It’s the engagement party! Where are our main characters?] [Chase and I are walking in now. My cousin is coming tonight too.] [Since when do you have a cousin, Tyler? Where’s Quinn? She’s been MIA.] I found an empty guest room. I washed my face clean and reapplied a light, sharp layer of makeup. For years, whenever Chase dated someone new, I proactively cut contact. Tonight, I wanted to see exactly what kind of girl had stolen his heart. As for him and me? I used a cotton swab to meticulously wipe away a stray tear from the corner of my eye, making sure my foundation was flawless. Chase probably thought I was joking when I told him on day one: If we break up, we don’t stay friends. But I, Quinn, have never been desperate for friends. And I absolutely refuse to spend another second of my life standing beside someone who doesn’t love me. “Baby, what took you so long?” The second I sat down in the VIP room, Chase leaned in, whining and acting cute. “I haven’t taken my meds tonight, and my cough is getting worse.” He blinked his puppy-dog eyes and nuzzled his face into my shoulder. There wasn’t a single trace of the cold, calculating bastard from the balcony. His friends around us started hooting and hollering. “Get a room! Leave the PDA at the door!” “You two are sickeningly sweet! If you weren’t so perfect for each other, I would have kicked you out of the group chat years ago!” “This is what you call a fairy-tale ending! Childhood sweethearts to soulmates! Chase played around for his whole life, but now he’s utterly whipped by our girl Quinn. It actually makes me believe in love.” The sticky, gross residue from the melting medicine tablets was still on my palm. I suppressed my nausea and offered a faint, detached smile. I leaned forward smoothly to grab a sparkling water from the table, expertly dodging Chase’s touch. “Where’s Tyler?” Chase had been about to lean in again, but hearing me ask about Tyler made him freeze. “He went to pick up his little sister! Oh, speak of the devil.” Tyler walked in, followed by a slender, fragile-looking girl in a white sundress. They sat down a few feet away. “You lucky bastard, Tyler. Your sister is gorgeous. You gonna introduce her to the single guys here?” one of the guys joked. Tyler shot an awkward, nervous glance at Chase and replied, “This is my sister, Lily.” “She’s a little shy and not used to this kind of scene, so go easy on her.” Amidst the roaring laughter, I looked at Lily. Her large, doe-like eyes were already locked tearfully onto Chase. The man who had just been trying to nuzzle into my shoulder quietly put some distance between us, leaning back against the armrest. That dull, throbbing pain flared up in my chest again. No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, the grief and fury were overwhelming. Lily hadn’t learned how to hide her feelings. Or maybe, because she was the one who was truly loved, she felt entitled to be bold. Her gaze lingered on Chase with reckless, unapologetic longing. My best friend, Zoe, instantly noticed I was unhappy. She didn’t hesitate. She smiled sharply and said, “Little girl, you shouldn’t be staring at that one. He’s getting married.” Lily’s face instantly flushed crimson. She quickly averted her eyes, forcing an embarrassed, fragile smile. “I’m sorry. I already have a boyfriend.” Chase still had a smile on his face, but his tone carried a sharp, defensive edge. “Zoe, you like to mess around, but not every sweet, innocent girl is like you.” Zoe’s temper flared instantly. She stood up, ready to smack him. I grabbed her arm, holding her back, and smiled directly at Chase. “You talk like you’re some saint. At least Zoe has never two-timed anyone.” Chase froze. He instinctively avoided my gaze. He forced a nervous chuckle to cover his panic. “I haven’t either, baby. Why are you suddenly getting mad at me?” Seeing my visibly icy expression, Chase grabbed a shot of liquor and downed it. “My bad, I phrased that wrong. I apologize to Zoe. Let’s drop it.” As everyone started laughing and changing the subject, I watched Lily look at Chase with profound, aching heartbreak. It was as if I was some tyrannical villain, ruthlessly torturing the two star-crossed lovers. “Alright, alright, let’s play a game! Camera Roll Roulette, how about it?” Tyler jumped in to smooth things over. “If you have anything sketchy on your phone, hide it now! Don’t traumatize us.” “I’ll pick the first date: May 17, 2023!” Everyone pulled out their phones. The rule was simple: if the bottle landed on you, you had to cast your camera roll from that exact date to the big screen for everyone to see. The bottle spun and landed pointing directly at me. I cast my phone screen to the TV. Ocean waves. A sandy beach. A candlelight dinner. And a screenshot of an UberEats delivery confirmation. “That was the year you guys went to the beach for your birthday, right?!” Zoe playfully shoved my shoulder, lowering her voice. “I even asked you if after twenty-eight years of being a saint, tasting a man for the first time was mind-blowing!” I smiled at Zoe. Those memories used to be so beautiful, but looking at them now, they only tasted like ash. One of the guys had sharp eyes and pointed at the screen. “Wait, you guys ordered delivery at 2:00 AM?” “What kind of delivery, Chase?! Was it that kind of delivery?!” The whole room erupted into wolf-whistles and laughter. But Chase, who usually loved dirty jokes, wasn’t smiling. He was staring at Lily, whose face had gone completely pale. “No, it was just some cold medicine. Don’t be gross.” A sudden, vicious wave of malice surged from my chest. “We ordered that medicine because you hurt me, didn’t we?” I smiled sweetly, willing to rip my own scars open just to make them sick to their stomachs. “You were entirely too rough. I have no idea why you were so frantic. That dress was incredibly expensive, and I only got to wear it once.” “Chase, you acted like you had never slept with a woman before. Your technique was terrible.” “Is it because the innocent little girls you usually like never let you touch them?” Amidst the roaring, scandalous cheers of the crowd… I watched Lily lower her head and wipe away tears. I watched Chase’s face twist in displeased, suffocating panic. Even though I had gotten the twisted satisfaction of laughing out loud… Why did my chest feel so painfully tight? Why did my nose sting? “Next!” Tyler wiped the sweat from his forehead and spun the bottle again. It pointed straight at Lily. She forced a fragile, trembling smile. “There’s nothing interesting on my camera roll.” Zoe looked at me, then at Lily, her sharp intuition immediately picking up on the vibe. She frowned. “Little girl, if you can’t handle the game, don’t sit at the table.” Chase frowned deeply. Before he could open his mouth to defend her, I grabbed his hand. I leaned in close to his visibly angry face. From the side angle, it probably looked like we were kissing. “Puppy, I’m a little hungry. Can you go order me some food?” Chase paused for a few seconds, but eventually stood up and walked over to the server by the door to grab an iPad. “I can handle it.” I knew Lily had watched our intimate interaction. Her voice was laced with grinding teeth. She glared at me, her eyes brimming with tears. It was the first time she had looked me dead in the eye all night, and her gaze was filled with reckless, undisguised hatred. Her phone screen was cast to the big screen. The very first image was a text message screenshot. One of the nosy guys in the group read it out loud. “‘Did you sleep with her? You swore to me it was just a strategic business merger! You promised you wouldn’t touch her!’” “‘But I was only thinking of you the entire time, my Lily.’” “‘I want fries, Quinn!’” The guy’s voice reading my food order perfectly overlapped with the last two words of that text message screenshot. The entire VIP room plunged into a suffocating, dead silence. I finished ordering and handed the iPad back to the server. I placed my violently trembling hands under the table and smiled. “What a coincidence.” “But listening to that… it sounds an awful lot like Ms. Lily is a homewrecker, doesn’t it?” “QUINN!” Chase snapped, shouting my name. Meeting my perfectly calm, dead eyes, he forced an ugly, strained smile. “Quinn. Don’t speak to a young girl like that.” Before I could even reply, Lily suddenly raised her voice. “I am NOT a homewrecker.” She stared directly at Chase, her face full of stubborn defiance. “My boyfriend and I are each other’s first loves. We were each other’s first everything. The only reason we’re separated is because his family is too stubborn and refused to let us be together!” “His relationship with his fiancée is just an open, arranged business merger. She had a desperate, pathetic crush on him, and his parents forced them together!” The young girl recklessly unleashed her pent-up emotions, swiping through the photos on her screen. “The day before May 17th, we celebrated his birthday together.” “His flight was at 11:00 PM, but he stayed with me until 9:00 PM before he finally rushed to the airport. He almost missed his flight.” “Before he left, he bought me flowers. We ate cake together, and we made love for hours.” “This is the birthday present he gave me. I just glanced at it on his phone, and he bought it for me instantly.” It was a photo of a breathtaking, dazzling sapphire ring. “He told me that in this lifetime, I am the only woman he will ever buy a ring for.” I was stunned. I had been at that exact auction. I had wanted that sapphire ring too, but some anonymous buyer had outbid everyone in the room with a blank check. Chase had coaxed me afterward. He promised he would buy me an even more beautiful one. But we were literally engaged now. I rubbed my bare, empty fingers. It suddenly hit me. Chase had never, ever bought me a ring. Lily swiped back to the screenshots from the 17th. As the images flew by, the truth hit me like a freight train. Even though he was physically next to me on that beach, Chase had been texting and coaxing her from morning until night. The beautiful scenery we saw? She got photos of all of it. The gorgeous travel souvenirs I looked at? Chase noted them in his app and had them shipped directly to her. And then, there was a photo of a cake. In the shadowy background of the picture, I could clearly see my own dress and the lower half of my chin. I saw myself, hands clasped together, eyes closed, earnestly wishing that I could stay with the man I loved forever. While he was sitting right next to me, texting Lily: “This cake is amazing. I’ll buy you one next time so you can taste it.” It was absolutely, sickeningly repulsive. I grabbed Zoe’s leg under the table. From the exact second that cake photo appeared on the screen… She had silently grabbed an empty glass liquor bottle. “Quinn, that’s… that’s…!” “Don’t rush it,” I smiled at Zoe. Her eyes were shimmering with furious tears. She muttered a few muffled curses about ‘idiots’ and ‘bitches.’ The atmosphere in the VIP room was so tense it was hard to breathe. “Is Ms. Lily finished? Then let’s move to the next round.” I calmly spun the bottle on the table. “I want to select April 2, 2025.” “Who’s playing?” For the first time all night, Chase completely lost his composure. He suddenly threw his arm around my shoulders. “Baby, my head is killing me.” “I just remembered I’m on antibiotics. I can’t be drinking tonight.” “Let’s go to the hospital, okay?” I methodically peeled his fingers off my shoulder one by one, and smiled. “No.” I was the first to cast my phone to the screen. The image was the stark, blinding white walls of a hospital room. It was a photo of the post-op care instructions for a miscarriage. It was the doctor’s warnings saved in my notes app. It was a screenshot of texts I sent to my mom. [The doctor said I might never be able to have children again.] [Mom, they still haven’t found the driver who caused the crash.] [Let’s postpone the courthouse wedding for now.] April 2, 2025, was exactly five days after the accident. On the day Chase and I were driving to the courthouse to officially sign our marriage license. A woman had suddenly sprinted directly into the middle of the road. There was enough distance to brake safely. Chase was an experienced driver; he even knew how to race cars. But he panicked. He panicked so completely that he violently yanked the steering wheel. The entire passenger side of the car—my side—was smashed brutally into the steel guardrail. The baby that had just barely developed a heartbeat was gone. I was critically injured and spent three days in the ICU. When I woke up, I saw Chase kneeling by my hospital bed. He had lost so much weight. He swore to me that he didn’t care if we never had kids, but in this lifetime, no matter what happened, he was going to stay by my side. “Let’s not look at this, Quinn.” Chase gripped my hand desperately, his eyes unable to hide his sheer terror. “I really don’t feel well. Let’s just leave, please.” Lily hesitated, about to disconnect her phone, but Zoe lunged across the table and snatched it out of her hand. With vicious speed, she swiped straight to that exact date. It was a mirror selfie of Lily wearing cheap, novelty lingerie. Followed by a shaky video, the camera pointed at a messy, dirty floor. Amidst the sounds of chaotic, heavy breathing… I heard Lily crying. “You said you hated me! You said you never wanted to see me again for the rest of your life! Why did you come back?!” She was kissed into silence. “I want to fucking kill you!” The man ground his teeth, his voice hoarse as he tried to soothe her. “Lily, that was my baby. Do you know she might never be able to get pregnant again?” “I can give you a baby!” Lily’s voice sounded so incredibly wronged and pitiful. “If you really want to make it up to her, just take our baby and give it to her to raise!” A heavy sigh echoed from Chase on the video. “I love you so much… how could I ever bear to let you lose your child?” “Just consider it… a debt she and I owe you.” I finished watching the grotesque, humiliating spectacle. I took the last sip of my drink, and set the glass down. It felt as if I was finally setting down thirty years of tangled, miserable history. “Chase, we’re done. Let’s break up.” The exact second the words left my mouth, Zoe smashed Lily’s phone against the wall and hurled the heavy glass liquor bottle directly at Chase’s head. “CHASE STERLING, FUCK YOU!” Lily threw herself over Chase to protect him. Tyler grabbed Zoe’s arms, narrowly avoiding getting his face clawed off by her manicured nails. But Chase just stared at me nervously. His eyes flickered with emotions I couldn’t understand, and frankly, had zero desire to decipher. I turned around and took long, purposeful strides out of the VIP room. My driver was already waiting downstairs. We sped all the way back to the apartment Chase and I shared. I pulled out my suitcases and rapidly packed up all my belongings. Even though we had lived together for two years, I was shocked to find that my entire life fit perfectly into just two suitcases. The driver loaded the bags into the trunk and drove me back to my parents’ estate. Everything had been such a chaotic blur. It wasn’t until I was lying in my childhood bed, staring out at the unfamiliar night skyline, that my heart finally slowed down. And then, the realization hit me. Chase and I were actually broken up. The dull, heavy pain I had been suppressing in my chest completely exploded in the silence of the empty room. I sobbed until my lungs burned. It felt like someone had literally carved a piece of flesh out of my body. Even if you know the flesh is necrotic and rotting, cutting it out still hurts like absolute hell. I don’t remember what time I finally cried myself to sleep. When I woke up, my eyes were so swollen they ached. I grabbed my phone. Chase had called me four times. And sent a barrage of texts. [Quinn, can we please just sit down and talk?] [After all these years, even if we can’t be together, are we really not going to be friends anymore?] [Quinn, please don’t do this.] The timestamp on his most recent message… Was right around the time my driver and I had pulled out of the underground parking garage at his building. So I hadn’t imagined it. That really was Chase sprinting desperately toward the elevator banks as my car drove away. I hugged my blanket tight and took two deep breaths. I raised my hand and permanently deleted Chase’s contact info. Break up. Two simple words. When I said them, I was absolutely resolute. I just didn’t expect the withdrawal period to be this agonizing. The most complicated part of all this was our engagement. Our families had deeply intertwined business interests, and we had just launched a massive joint venture. A messy, public fallout would be catastrophic for both sides. My mother saw the guilt on my face after I explained everything Chase had done over the years. Her tears fell first, her heart breaking for me. “Don’t worry about the Sterling family. Your father’s lawyers and I will handle everything.” “You just focus on resting and healing.” I kept my phone turned off for several days until my emotions finally began to stabilize, and then I slowly started checking my messages again. I heard through the grapevine that Chase had shown up at my family’s estate multiple times, but the security guards wouldn’t even let him through the front gates. “Your mom gave the security team a photo of Chase, and the license plates of every single car his family owns, and put them all on a permanent blacklist,” Zoe laughed, trying to cheer me up. “And he caught the family wrath.” “His grandfather beat him so badly he snapped a leather belt on him, and now he’s under house arrest.” “Serves him right!” Then, she scratched her head, looking a little awkward. “But his older brother… the CEO, Pierce Sterling… he asked me for your contact info. He wants to meet with you.” “At first, I told him to go to hell along with his brother.” “But then he told me some things, and I decided to pass the message along.” “Do you want to see him, Quinn?” Chase’s older brother? I searched my memory for any impression of him. He was the son of Mr. Sterling and his first wife. He had a quarter European blood and looked like he was sculpted out of marble. In my memory, he had always lived abroad. He was only three years older than our group of trust-fund brats, but he was incredibly accomplished, mature, and ruthless in business. He had already taken over half of the Sterling Group’s operations.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400790”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“I’m so sorry, but this flight is oversold. Here is a two-hundred-dollar voucher. You need to deplane immediately!” The lead flight attendant had a death grip on my carry-on roller bag. I looked at him coldly, then shifted my gaze to the woman standing next to him. She had just been escorted onto the plane, dripping in head-to-toe designer gear. “Why does she get to board late, while I, holding a full-fare ticket, am being kicked off?” I demanded. The flight attendant sneered, leaning in close to whisper sarcastically, “Because she is Chloe Sterling, of the Sterling Medical Group family. She’s rushing to New York to beg ‘The Miracle Surgeon’—the one no one can ever find—to save her life.” “You think whatever emergency you have matters compared to a life-and-death situation? If you delay Ms. Sterling, you couldn’t repay that debt in ten lifetimes. Now, get lost!” I was dragged off the plane by several beefy security guards. I watched through the terminal window as the cabin door closed. I started laughing from sheer anger. The “Ms. Sterling” he was talking about has a terminal illness. And what he didn’t know was that I am that “Miracle Surgeon.” Her family had spent three months begging on their knees before I finally agreed to fly to New York today to perform her operation. Since they kicked me off, I’m not doing the surgery. Good luck, Sterling. You’re going to need it. Chapter 1 I dragged my suitcase, step by heavy step, over to the gate agent’s counter. “I need to cancel and refund my ticket.” I slammed my ID onto the laminate countertop, my voice thick with resentment. The agent glanced at the screen, looked me up and down, and actually rolled her eyes. “So sorry, but since you ‘chose’ not to board, this is considered a voluntary cancellation. You only get back the taxes and facility fees. That’s sixty bucks. No full refund.” I was so angry I laughed. “Voluntary?” “Your airline oversold the flight and had security drag a full-fare passenger off the plane. You call that voluntary on my part?” The agent’s fingers flew across the keyboard, clacking loudly. She looked incredibly impatient. “Look, you were causing a scene in the jet bridge, disrupting order. Breaking federal regulations.” “Honestly, you should be happy you’re getting sixty bucks back. Don’t push your luck.” Just then, the sound of expensive leather shoes echoed from the terminal floor. That same lead flight attendant from before was walking over, head held high, holding his phone up, recording me. “Look at this loser, trying to scam the airline for cash after getting booted. Totally broke and desperate!” “You just want a bigger compensation voucher, don’t you? Why act so high and mighty?” The flight attendant crossed his arms, his face twisted in mockery. “Is two hundred not enough for a peasant like you?” “Maybe I should post this video online so everyone can see how pathetic you are. Who knows? Some nice person might start a GoFundMe for you. A charity case!” I stared at his insufferable face, fighting to keep my rage under control. “You are going to regret everything you did today.” The flight attendant reacted as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. He laughed so hard tears almost came out. “Regret? Me? Regret something concerning a piece of trash like you who can’t even afford Economy Plus, let alone First Class?” “Ms. Sterling chartered the entire First Class cabin. Even her bodyguards are in Business. Her security detail is worth more than your life.” “Who do you think you are, making me regret something?” He spun around, shouting at the top of his lungs to the passengers milling around the concourse. “Everyone, look at this guy!” “He’s the one who refused to cooperate during an overbooking situation and tried to blackmail the airline! Now he’s harassing the gate agents, delaying everyone. He’s a menace!” The surrounding passengers were instantly drawn in. Whispers and judging looks began to fly. “He looks decent, how can he be such a scumbag?” “Exactly. The airline offered compensation, and he still made a scene. He’s crazy for money!” “Just get out of here, stop embarrassing yourself!” I ignored the onlookers and turned back to the gate agent. “Fine. Cancel it.” “But you are going to write down, in black and white, on the receipt, that this was an Involuntary Denial of Boarding due to airline overbooking.” I needed a paper trail. When the Sterling family inevitably came looking for me, I wasn’t going to let them think I broke the contract voluntarily. I was not taking the fall for this. The flight attendant’s face darkened. He slammed his hand on the counter. “In your dreams!” “We offered you a solution, and you refused it. Now you want to slander the airline?” “Where is security? Are they deaf? Drag this lunatic out of here!” Several airport police officers immediately rushed over, grabbing my arms from both sides in a vice grip. “Let go of me!” I struggled desperately, but the cops didn’t listen. They began dragging me toward the airport exit. As they dragged me past the flight attendant, I couldn’t help but issue a final warning. “You better remember my face today. And remember every word that just came out of your mouth.” “Very soon, you’ll be on your knees begging me.” He wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. Instead, he kicked my rolling suitcase over. The already damaged suitcase split completely open. Clothes and specialized, custom-compounded medications spilled across the dirty floor. The flight attendant stomped on one of the glass vials, crushing it instantly. The specialized formula inside turned to powder under his heel. It was over. That was the specialized medication I had compounded specifically for Chloe Sterling. It was the only dose in the world! Without those meds, Chloe Sterling would never survive the post-operative recovery period! “Oh my, I am so sorry,” the flight attendant mocked with fake sympathy. Countless phone cameras were aimed at me. A barrage of mockery overwhelmed me. I was thrown out of the departure terminal, landing hard on the concrete sidewalk. The flight attendant tossed my suitcase—broken and open—onto me like he was throwing out trash. “Take your garbage and get lost! You make trouble again, and we’re locking you up for disturbing the peace!” Just then, my phone began vibrating like crazy in my pocket. The second I answered, a barrage of furious questions blasted through the speaker. “What is wrong with you!” “The plane took off ages ago. I just checked the flight manifest, and your name isn’t even on it!” It was the Sterling family’s chief of staff. His tone was arrogant, demanding answers. “The Sterling family put so much effort into hiring you. We wired you a massive retainer, and you decide to play diva at the last second?” “Who do you think you are, making the Sterlings wait?” “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re supposed to be the best surgeon for this, you think you’d be worthy of treating our Ms. Chloe?” I tried to explain it was the airline’s fault, but he wouldn’t listen. “I’m warning you. Our daughter’s illness cannot wait. If you are not in the operating room at New York-Presbyterian before sundown today, don’t blame the Sterlings for getting nasty!” “You took Sterling money, you better deliver. Believe me, I can make sure you never practice medicine in this country again!” The call slammed shut. The dial tone droned in my ear. My heart was bursting with fury. I dialed the number back. The second it connected, the chief of staff’s impatient voice snapped, “What else could you possibly have to say? Figure it out and charter a private plane if you have to!” “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice cold. “If you want to know why I’m not on that plane, go ask the lead flight attendant of Chloe’s flight.” “What does that mean?” “Exactly what I said.” I hung up immediately. I opened my mobile banking app, found the three-million-dollar retainers—the “good faith payment”—the Sterlings had sent, and hit ‘Return to Sender.’ I added a four-word note: Find Someone Else. Three million might be a fortune to some, but to me, it wasn’t worth the humiliation I endured today. I blocked every Sterling family contact number. Total blackout. Looking at the crushed specialized medication scattered on the pavement, I let out a cold laugh. Chloe Sterling, your life is out of my hands. I hailed a cab and went straight back to the hospital. I had just sat down in my office when my phone started vibrating like crazy again. It was Dr. Evans, the hospital President. He was screaming the moment I answered. “Ethan Vance! What in God’s name is going on!” “The Sterling family just called me! They said you were causing a riot at the airport and tried to attack Ms. Sterling!” “The flight attendant was apparently forced to remove you from the flight to protect Ms. Sterling. Instead of being remorseful, you had the audacity to return their retainer?” I was stunned. Once it clicked, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. That flight attendant’s ability to twist the truth was world-class. To cover up the airline’s overselling mistake, he concocted a lie like that. And the hilarious part was that the Sterling family actually believed that total garbage without checking for two seconds. “Old Mrs. Sterling herself gave the order. You are to get on the next flight to New York, get on your knees, beg Chloe Sterling for forgiveness, and perform the surgery immediately!” “If you dare refuse, consider yourself fired!” I ignored the screaming through the phone. I pulled out a blank sheet of paper and quickly scrawled my letter of resignation. I walked upstairs and pushed open the President’s office door. Dr. Evans was still holding his phone, looking surprised to see me. Slap! I slammed the resignation letter hard onto his desk. “Don’t bother firing me. I resign.” Dr. Evans stared at the paper, his eyes wide. “Are you insane? You think resigning lets you off the hook with the Sterlings?” I leaned over his desk, looking down at him. “Dr. Evans, I’m burned out. I’m taking a very long vacation out of state.” “If the Sterlings have the power to revoke my medical license, let them try. If they want to blacklist me, let them.” I turned and walked out. “Wait!” “You come back here!” Dr. Evans was screaming behind me in useless rage. I didn’t look back. I walked right out of the building. I did the math in my head. It was about time. Chloe Sterling’s terminal illness was being held at bay solely by that specialized medication I compounded. Now the meds were gone, and she was at thirty thousand feet. It was time for the symptoms to flare up. When I got home, I turned off my phone, drew the curtains, and slept like the dead. Early the next morning, the moment I turned on my phone, it was flooded with missed calls from the Sterling family. Immediately, an unknown number with a local area code called. I answered, and a familiar voice came through. “Dr. Vance! Please, you have to get to the airport right now! Ms. Sterling started vomiting blood on the flight and collapsed into a coma!” “The airline has authorized a complimentary Business Class seat to fly you specifically to New York on a private charter!” It was the lead flight attendant from yesterday. I let out a cold sneer and exposed him immediately. “Complimentary Business Class? Didn’t you say yesterday I was a broke loser who only deserved to be dragged off the plane?” “Shut up!” He was panicked, but his tone was still demanding and arrogant. “The Sterling family is putting immense pressure on the airline. If I lose my job because of you, I’m coming for you! Get your ass down here now!” I hung up immediately. I blocked that number too. Less than half an hour later, a thunderous pounding erupted at my front door. Boom! Boom! Boom! Along with a strong, pungent chemical smell. “Ethan Vance! You murderous quack! Get out here!” I ripped the door open. A bucket of red paint had been thrown over my outer security door, dripping down the crevices. The flight attendant, flanked by several beefy airline security guards, stood aggressively at my doorstep. Neighbors were already gathering in the hallway, peeking out and whispering. “What a shame. He seemed like such a nice young man, but turns out he’s a corrupt doctor.” “Exactly. They’re throwing paint on his door. He must have done something truly awful!” Hearing the gossip, the flight attendant got even more smug. “Look at this quack, everyone!” “He took a patient’s money and didn’t do his job. He intentionally delayed treatment, causing the patient to be in critical condition!” “Now he’s hiding in his apartment playing dead. A corrupt doctor like this belongs in prison!” His face was contorted in fury. He was clearly being pushed to the brink by the Sterling family and was trying to use me as a scapegoat to save himself. “You think hiding works? Today, you are getting to New York even if I have to drag your corpse there!” I looked at the red paint on the floor and was about to call the police when a heavy set of footsteps echoed from the stairs. Several bodyguards in black suits roughly pushed the spectating neighbors aside. Sterling’s chief of staff walked up, looking down at me with supreme arrogance. The flight attendant immediately fawned over him. “Chief, look, I found him! This won’t delay Ms. Sterling’s treatment!” The chief of staff didn’t even give him a glance. He walked straight up to me. “Dr. Vance, are you done with your tantrum?” He pulled out a check and waved it between his fingertips. “Six million. Double the original retainer.” “Come with me right now, and the Sterlings will let bygones be bygones.” I didn’t even look at the check. I coldly spit out two words. “Not interested.” “Don’t push your luck, kid!” The chief of staff’s face instantly darkened, the polite mask slipping. “You really think you can afford to offend the Sterling family?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low, filled with an icy chill. “You don’t want to go? Fine. Today, I am kidnapping you. I will strap you to that operating table myself.” “You don’t want to pick up the scalpel? The Sterlings have plenty of ways to make you.” “I heard… Dr. Vance’s father currently resides at the Cornwall Assisted Living Facility?” My entire body shuddered. They were despicable enough to track down my father’s whereabouts. “You dare touch my father, and you’re dead!” I gritted my teeth, staring at him with pure hatred. “To cure our daughter, the Sterlings will do whatever it takes.” The chief of staff sneered repeatedly, supreme arrogance on his face. “You better smarten up. Go pack your things now.” “Otherwise, I guarantee your father will be thrown out of that facility today, left on the street!” The surrounding bodyguards immediately stepped forward, restraining me. The flight attendant gloated from the sidelines. “Did you hear that? Still trying to act tough in front of the Sterlings? You really won’t give up until you see the coffin, will you?” Looking at their ugly faces, I suddenly started to laugh. The chief of staff’s brow furrowed, extremely impatient. “What are you laughing at!” “I’m laughing at how stupid you are.” I stopped smiling and looked at the flight attendant, who was still looking triumphant. “You really think I’m refusing to save Chloe Sterling because of a grudge?” “Even if I went right now, she’s already dead.” The chief of staff’s face changed dramatically. She grabbed my collar. “What do you mean!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400789”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After three years of a dead-end marriage and a husband who refused to sign the divorce papers despite keeping a permanent mistress, I stopped crying. Instead, I started swiping. I was at the boutique, eyeing my fifth Birkin of the month, when my husband’s mistress called to stage an intervention. “Do you even know how to be a wife?” Piper’s voice was shrill, dripping with a mock concern that made my skin crawl. “How can you have the heart to buy another bag right now? The firm is in a liquidity crisis. Nathan is losing sleep every single night over the overhead.” She let out a shaky breath, and then, incredibly, she started to sob. “He’s your husband, Isabel. Don’t you feel anything for him?” In the background, I heard the muffled, low timbre of Nathan’s voice, shushing her, comforting her. This was the fifty-ninth time she had lectured me on my “reckless” spending. She was his lead accountant, his “loyal” employee, and the woman he couldn’t seem to quit. We had been trapped in this divorce battle for three years. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even argue. I simply pressed ‘end call’ and turned to the sales associate with a blank smile. I proceeded to spend half a million dollars on a suite of high-end appliances and designer furniture for a home I had no intention of staying in. Ten minutes later, Nathan called. He let out a heavy, performative sigh. “From now on, Piper is in charge of your accounts. If you need a cent, you ask her. She’s a professional; maybe she can finally cure you of this pathological wastefulness.” I listened in silence. My lack of reaction seemed to irritate him more than a tantrum would have. “What are you even doing with all that junk?” he snapped. “Can’t you just try to live a normal life for once?” “You told me once,” I said, my voice as level as a horizon line, “that the day I found someone who actually wanted me, you’d let me go. That you’d sign the papers.” “Isabel—” “I’m buying my trousseau, Nathan. Every swipe of the card is an investment in my new life. I’ve found someone.” … There was a long beat of silence on the other end. Then, a sharp, dismissive scoff. “Is this the only trick you have left?” Nathan asked. “The ‘other man’ routine? I don’t have the energy for this, Isabel. The company is hit with a federal audit, and things are tense.” He let out another sigh, that mixture of exhaustion and arrogance he wore like a tailored suit. “I don’t expect you to help me carry the weight. I just need you to stay in your lane. Stop trying to buy my attention with high-end receipts. I’ve told you a thousand times: you’ll always be Mrs. Nathan Jackson. Stop acting out. It’s beneath you.” He was so certain. He truly believed that outside of the gilded cage he’d built for me, I was nothing. He thought no one else would look at me. He’d thought that three years ago, and he thought it now. I heard Piper’s voice in the background, teasing him. “You don’t think she’s actually seeing someone, do you?” “Please,” Nathan chuckled, a sound full of smug confidence. “No one else would put up with her. With that temper? I’m the only man on earth who can handle her.” He called it a “temper.” He never realized that he was the one who had transformed a soft, quiet woman into a screaming banshee, and eventually, into this cold, silent stranger. Years ago, I would have fought him. I would have stormed into his office and screamed about the accountant he was sleeping with until security escorted me out. But to a man of his stature, my public pain wasn’t a scandal—it was an ego boost. It was a testament to how much he mattered. For three years, he and Piper had been a “we.” She stood where I should have stood at every gala. She sat at his family’s Thanksgiving table while I stayed home. I was the punchline of every joke in the suburban country club circuit. And yet, every time I begged for a divorce, he refused. He’d look at me with that cruel, confident smirk and say: “You want out? Fine. Find a man who’s willing to take you off my hands. Go out there and see who wants Nathan Jackson’s leftovers. See who’s brave enough to cross me.” He overestimated his shadow. And he vastly underestimated me. The man I found wasn’t just “someone.” He was everything Nathan pretended to be, and more. The line went dead. Still feeling the phantom itch of his arrogance, I walked over to the watch counter and asked to see a limited-edition Patek Philippe. The clerk ran my card and winced. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jackson. There’s a transaction limit. It’s… well, it’s set to fifty dollars.” A text popped up from Piper immediately: I hope you understand. Nathan is under a lot of pressure. Once the firm clears this hurdle, I might increase your allowance to a hundred. Please, Isabel. Have a heart. Stop being a burden to your husband. I actually laughed. A mistress asking the wife to “have a heart” for the man they were both bleeding dry—spiritually or financially. She had played her part well. To the world, she was the “loyal partner” helping a mogul survive his “unstable” wife. To Nathan’s family, I was the fallen socialite whose parents had gone to prison, a girl who had lost her utility and kept only her expensive tastes. I drove back to the house—a sprawling, glass-and-steel mausoleum I had haunted for seven years. It felt like a walk-in freezer. Nathan and Piper were waiting in the living room. They were sitting close, her hand resting casually on his thigh, her fingers tracing the fabric of his trousers. I had seen this tableau so many times that the sight no longer sparked a fire; it just left behind a cold ash. Piper looked at my empty hands and smirked at Nathan. “You were right. Empty-handed. Just another cry for attention.” Nathan gave a small, indulgent nod. They stood up together as I headed for the stairs. “Isabel,” Nathan called out. “We need to talk.” I stopped and turned, a ghost of a smile touching my lips. “About the divorce? Give me a second to call my attorney.” It was the only way to shut him down. The word ‘divorce’ was the only thing that stopped his “concerned husband” monologue in its tracks. His face darkened instantly. “Do you have any idea how you’d survive a week without me? You think you can provide for yourself?” He sneered, tossing a folder onto the coffee table. “We’re cutting back. Piper put together a budget for you. From now on, every expense goes through her for approval.” I saw the flicker of annoyance in Piper’s eyes. Every time I brought up the divorce, Nathan’s refusal hit her like a physical blow. She wanted the title. She wanted the ring. She masked it quickly with a sugary, condescending tone. “Isabel, you’ve never had to worry about the cost of living. Even a fortune has its limits, and the firm’s capital is tied up. We just need you to cooperate.” I didn’t look at her. I looked straight at Nathan. “You should clear your calendar for next week. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend.” He snorted, the sound of a man who’d heard the same joke too many times. “Is this the ‘Boy Who Cried Wolf’ again? It’s getting pathetic, Isabel.” In the early days of the affair, I had tried to make him jealous. I’d staged “dates” and left fake messages. I’d done it three times, and each time, he’d caught me in the lie. Now, when I was finally telling the truth, he was blinded by his own vanity. Piper chimed in, her voice dripping with poison. “Isabel, are you only saying this because you found out I’m pregnant? I know it’s hard for you, but acting out won’t change the facts.” A cold shock vibrated through me. She was pregnant. Only a year ago, Nathan had looked me in the eye and promised, “I’ll never let a woman on the side carry my name. You’re the only mother I want for my children. If it ever happens, I’ll take care of it. Trust me.” Now, he looked at me and said, “Watch your tone, Isabel. Piper is in a delicate state. I won’t have you upsetting her.” “What a coincidence,” I said, my hand resting lightly on my still-flat stomach. “I’m pregnant too. Why would I waste my energy being upset with her?” They both laughed. It was a cruel, mocking sound. They were utterly convinced I was lying. Nathan’s phone rang, and he stepped out onto the terrace to take the call. The second he was gone, Piper’s mask fell. She stepped into my personal space, her voice a lethal whisper. “He’s not keeping you because he loves you. He keeps you because he pities you. To the Jacksons, you’re just a stray dog they forgot to put down. A man’s heart is where his money is, Isabel.” She leaned in closer. “He’s moved all his personal liquid assets into my accounts. The company might be ‘struggling,’ but I have enough in offshore holdings to last ten lifetimes. I’m making you pinch pennies because I don’t think you deserve a single cent of his. Don’t flatter yourself—he isn’t holding onto the marriage. He’s holding onto his property.” She grinned, a predatory flash of teeth. “And by the way? Nathan already scheduled his vasectomy. You’ll never carry a Jackson heir. My child will be the only one who matters.” I watched her, fascinated by her delusions of grandeur. It wasn’t that Nathan wouldn’t touch me—it was that I wouldn’t let him. The day I found out about them, he had tried to force his way into my bed. I had picked up a steak knife and opened a gash in his arm that required sixteen stitches. His scars—on his arms, his legs, the one near his eye where I’d swung a pair of shears—were the map of our “intimacy.” His mother had tried to have me arrested. Nathan had bailed me out, bleeding and furious, but he never tried to touch me again. For three years, we hadn’t even shaken hands. “He’s all yours, Piper,” I said with a shrug. She looked disappointed that I hadn’t shattered. She took another step toward me as I turned to go upstairs. “One more thing,” she said. “You know your parents? That eight-hundred-million-dollar bond to get them out of that fraud mess? Nathan could have paid it three years ago. He had the cash. But he spent it buying out an entire art gallery in London for me because I told him I liked the paintings. Your parents’ lives didn’t mean as much to him as a few canvases on my wall.” That one hit. I didn’t care about the affair anymore, but the realization that he had watched me beg for help, watched me go grey with stress and spend sleepless nights trying to save my family while he sat on the funds to help them… that was a different kind of pain. My parents had practically built Nathan. They had plucked him from a sea of ambitious young men and groomed him to be the heir to the Jackson empire. He had promised them undying loyalty. But he had forgotten. He had watched them burn and toasted his new mistress with the ashes. Luckily, I had found another way. I had gotten them out three months ago, through a connection he didn’t know I had. I turned back to Piper, my eyes like chips of ice. “He gave you the world, but he won’t give you his name. He’d rather get stabbed by me every night than be married to you. That’s a very… unique… kind of love, Piper.” Her face twisted. Before she could retort, Nathan’s mother, Lydia, swept into the room. “Isabel! Are you harassing her again?” Lydia barked. She rushed to Piper’s side, fussing over her like she was made of porcelain. Lydia had spent years calling me a “barren socialite.” Our relationship had been a war zone since the day Piper appeared. Piper squeezed out a few crocodile tears. Nathan walked back in, and without a second thought, he pointed a finger at me. “Apologize to her, Isabel. Now.” I laughed. It was a sharp, jagged sound. “Apologies are for people who intend to change,” Lydia snapped. “She’s hopeless. Piper is carrying a Jackson child. Isabel, if you lay a finger on her, you’ll regret it. In fact, I’ve decided. You’re moving out. You’ll stay at the Heights.” ‘The Heights’ was a thirty-square-meter studio apartment in a run-down part of the city. Lydia had bought it specifically to humiliate me. She’d told me once, “If you can’t act like a lady in this mansion, I’ll lock you in that kennel.” I looked at Nathan. Usually, he’d push back against his mother’s more overt cruelties. Today, he just looked at me with cold indifference. “Do as she says. Move there until the baby is born. We’ll re-evaluate then.” I didn’t argue. “Fine,” I said. The shock on their faces was almost worth the misery of the last three years. After I left, Nathan assumed I was rotting in that tiny studio. He let Piper drop my daily spending limit to twenty dollars. He treated me like a dog he’d finally managed to crate. It wasn’t until Piper’s son was born that he finally came looking for me. He called, his voice thick with a strange, anxious tension. “Isabel? Where are you?” “Get to the point, Nathan,” I said. Piper’s voice broke in on the extension. “Isabel! I’ve given the Jacksons their heir. We’re having a ‘Sip and See’ for the baby’s one-month milestone. We want you there. It would be… good for you to be around such a happy occasion.” The spite in her voice was palpable. “I’ll be there,” I said. “And I’ll be bringing someone.” “Good,” Nathan said, sounding relieved. “I knew a little time on your own would make you grow up. You’re finally acting like the woman I married.” I smiled to myself. The day of the party, I arrived at the Jackson estate. I was eight months pregnant, my belly prominent under a custom silk gown. And I wasn’t alone. I was leaning on the arm of the man who had been my shadow and my strength for the last year. Nathan was standing in the center of the ballroom, cradling his son. When he saw me, the color drained from his face as if someone had pulled a plug. Piper gasped, her glass nearly slipping from her hand. “Isabel? What… what is this?” The room went silent. Every socialite, every business rival, and every member of the Jackson family stared at us. Or rather, they stared at the man holding my hand: Dominic Thorne. I smiled at my husband. “Nathan, I believe it’s time for formal introductions. This is the man I told you about. My partner, and the father of my child—Dominic Thorne.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400788”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“What’s up, guys? Guess where your boy Jax is taking you tonight?” It was the dead of night when the streamer and his crew burst through the door, hauling their lighting rigs and cameras into the hollowed-out shell of my living room. I was perched on the ceiling beam, aimlessly counting the ants marching across the wood. “Everyone remembers the Riverdale ‘Wife-Slayer’ case from four years ago, right?” Jax—a guy who built his career on “urban exploration” and tragedy-porn—grinned at the camera. He panned the lens around the room, the harsh LED light sweeping across the dust-choked air until it settled right where I was sitting. I flinched, trying to hide. It took me a heartbeat to remember that I’ve been dead for years. I’m nothing more than a fractured shadow, a ghost tied to a ruin. 1 Jax pointed the camera at the beam beneath my spectral seat, his voice dropping into that rehearsed, theatrical rasp. “They say this is it. The exact spot where that monster, Daniel Miller, finally took the coward’s way out and hung himself after his murder attempt failed.” This was the first time anyone had stepped foot in my house since I died. I leaned forward, drawn by a morbid curiosity to see what the world thought of me now. The phone screen in his hand was a blur of scrolling comments. Scumbag. Monster. Burn in hell. The live chat was a feeding frenzy. “God, Jax, why are you in that psycho’s house? It’s bad luck just looking at it.” “Daniel Miller is a stain on the gender. A literal disgrace.” “I remember the news. He didn’t just hit her; he chased her with a knife. Screaming that he was going to gut her. The neighbors heard the whole thing.” “Yeah, I saw the interview with the wife afterward. She was covered in bruises, looking so fragile. It broke my heart.” “A bunch of us went to his house back then to throw eggs and trash. I was one of them. No regrets.” “He was a coward. He couldn’t face the music, so he kicked the chair. Good riddance.” The vitriol poured in, a digital lynch mob four years late. Jax’s face was practically splitting with glee. Every time he mentioned my name, the viewership numbers spiked. People started sending “gifts”—digital stickers that translated into cold, hard cash—demanding he trash the place or “summon” my spirit just to curse it. In the world of clickbait, my misery was a gold mine. “Easy, guys, easy,” Jax said, pulling a decorative “ghost-hunting” dagger and a stack of sage from his bag. He waved them around with practiced flair. “After Daniel died, his wife was taken in by her family, and this place has been sealed ever since. There are secrets buried in these walls, and tonight, we’re going to find them. If Daniel is still lurking here, I’ll make sure he knows he isn’t welcome in this world or the next.” 2 The crowd roared in the comments. Meanwhile, on the west side of the city, in a sprawling modern villa, Jordan sat frozen. He watched the livestream on a massive 4K TV, his knuckles white as he gripped the remote. Suddenly, he swept the glass decor off the coffee table in a fit of rage. “Damn it!” he hissed. “That piece of trash Daniel… he’s been dead for years. Why is his name still popping up to haunt us?” “That idiot streamer usually just does haunted hospitals. Why today? Why that house?” “I can’t let Madison see this,” Jordan muttered, his breathing ragged. “She’s finally starting to live again. She’s finally moved past the trauma.” He didn’t notice Madison standing in the doorway. She walked over quietly, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek to his back. “Jordan, honey, don’t get upset over something so insignificant. It’s not worth it.” She let out a soft sigh. “I’ve made my peace with it. Daniel brought me nothing but pain, but he’s gone now.” She shifted her hand, resting it gently over the slight curve of her stomach. “I have you now. And we have our baby coming.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and searching. “You’ll always take care of us, won’t you?” Jordan turned, pulling her into a fierce embrace, burying his face in her hair. “Maddie, I was so stupid back then. I was so worried about what our parents would think since we grew up as siblings—even if we aren’t related by blood. I pushed you away. I gave you to Daniel because he was my best friend. I thought he’d keep you safe. I almost cost you your life.” He pulled back, cupping her face. “I’m never letting go again. I’ll be with you forever, I swear.” They kissed, framed by the glow of the television. On the screen, Jax had reached the living room wall. He paused, frowning at a dark, brownish-black stain on the plaster. “Wait, what’s this?” He leaned in, sniffing the air, then recoiled, his face pale. “That’s blood.” A massive spray of blood had oxidized over the years, turning into a grim, crusted map. Under the glare of his high-powered flashlight, you could see faint, rhythmic symbols etched into the wall beneath the stain. “Gross! That is haunting.” “I heard he went insane before he died. A madman is capable of anything.” “Maybe that’s some kind of curse he put on his wife. Evil bastard.” “I’m glad he’s dead.” 3 The comments kept coming, the numbers climbing. I stared at the screen, my spectral heart aching. I felt like I was back there, four years ago, looking through the windows at the “righteous” strangers gathered on my lawn to scream at a man they didn’t know. They had never met me, yet they judged me based on a handful of headlines and internet rumors. Is that what justice looks like? A consensus of strangers fueled by half-truths? A bitter coldness washed over me. I didn’t understand how these people could carry so much hate for a ghost. Jax found a stiff brush in his gear bag. He set up the tripod and began to meticulously scrub the dust and grime away from the blood-stained wall. As the crust fell away, he gasped. “Holy—okay, any experts in the chat? What am I looking at?” He pointed to the edge of the symbols. Almost immediately, a comment pinned itself to the top: “Those are burial rites. Specifically, the ‘Prayer for the Departed.’ It’s meant to guide a lost soul to peace.” Another followed: “Jax, look at the center of the wall. It looks hollow. Break it open.” Jax didn’t hesitate. He pulled a small sledgehammer from his pack and swung. On the third hit, the drywall gave way, revealing a dark cavity. Something fell out with a dull thud. “There we go!” He flashed a thumbs-up to the camera and picked up a small, weathered wooden box. Inside was a single photograph and a leather-bound journal. The photo showed an elderly couple standing proudly behind two younger children. “Who are these people?” “Bottom left… is that Daniel?” “Are those his parents? Why would he hide this?” “Did he kill them too? Did he use that prayer to hide his crimes? Is he even more of a monster than we thought?” The “expert” from before commented again: “That prayer is usually commissioned by a grieving person to bless their family. If a murderer used it, it would actually act as a curse upon himself. And look—he chose a photo with himself in it. He’s putting himself under that protection, or that judgment.” Jax stared at the photo, his expression shifting from excitement to genuine intrigue. “Whatever the case, this just got a lot more interesting. Let’s see what the diary says…” 4 [September 5th, 2015. Today is the day. I’m finally marrying her. I’m marrying the girl of my dreams. Jordan handed Madison’s hand to me himself. I promised him, man to man, that I would spend every breath making her happy. Best friends becoming brothers-in-law. This is the happiest day of my life.] Jax had a “storyteller” voice when he wanted to. As he read, the audience seemed to settle. They were seeing a different Daniel—a nervous, head-over-heels kid who thought he’d won the lottery. In the villa, Jordan felt a chill. He remembered that day. He remembered the way Daniel’s hands shook when he put the ring on Madison’s finger. [September 6th, 2015. Last night was our wedding night, but Maddie didn’t want me to touch her. I feel a bit lost, a bit rejected, but I get it. She’s nervous. It’s a big change. I talked to my sister, Lucy, about how to be better, how to make Maddie feel more at ease. I’ll keep trying. I’ll do whatever it takes for her to love me back.] … As Jax continued to read, the chat went quiet. The “scumbag” comments slowed to a trickle. People were listening. Madison’s face had gone paper-white the moment the photo appeared on the screen. “Jordan,” she whispered, clutching her stomach. “I… I don’t feel well. Can we go upstairs? Please?” Jordan assumed the broadcast was triggering her trauma. He shut off the TV immediately and helped her to bed, tucking her in with a tenderness that felt like a shield. But the words from the stream kept echoing in his head. Ten minutes later, once Madison’s breathing had evened out into sleep, Jordan crept downstairs. He turned the TV back on, the volume low. He didn’t know that upstairs, Madison had opened her eyes. “Damn you, Daniel,” she hissed into the darkness, her face contorting with a sudden, sharp malice. She reached for her phone and opened the livestream. [April 3rd, 2017. Maddie’s been so down lately. I booked a surprise trip for us to the coast, but at the last minute, my boss called. A mandatory overtime crisis. I suggested we push it back two days. She didn’t say anything—she just slapped me across the face and walked out the door. Jordan called later. He said he was in the area and would look after her. I was so relieved. But tonight, neither of them are answering their phones. I’m scared.] [April 4th, 2017. Still nothing. I’m losing my mind. Please, God, let them be okay.] [April 5th… no answer.] [April 6th. I couldn’t take it. I caught the first flight I could. I went to the hotel room I’d booked for us. I can’t believe what I saw. They’re siblings. How could they… how could they be doing that?] 5 “Holy shit!” “What does he mean? What did he see?” “Is this going where I think it’s going?” “Wait, the timeline… Daniel was still being a ‘perfect husband’ then. Did he find out they were sleeping together? Is that why things turned violent?” “Doesn’t matter. Domestic abuse is never the answer!” The chat was a war zone of theories. Jordan felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his temples. He remembered that year. He remembered Daniel calling him, panicked, saying Madison had run off to the coast alone. Jordan happened to be on a “business trip” nearby. He told Daniel he’d handle it. After that… He rubbed his eyes. His memory of that month was a blurred mess. He’d been in a car accident shortly after. A concussion, the doctors said. Madison told him it wasn’t important, that he hadn’t missed anything. But he realized now that Daniel had stopped calling him after that trip. And then, one day, Madison had come home covered in bruises, sobbing that Daniel had turned into a monster. Had something happened before the “abuse”? Jax’s voice cut through the silence of the living room. [April 17th. Maddie came back today. She collapsed in my arms, crying. She said Jordan forced her. That he used his position as her ‘big brother’ to trap her. That piece of garbage. I treated him like a brother, and he preyed on his own sister. I wanted to kill him. I was halfway out the door when Maddie stopped me. She begged me not to. She said it would ruin the family. She said the reason she wouldn’t let me touch her was because she felt ‘unclean.’ I just held her. My poor, stupid girl. I don’t care about that. I love her. I’ll protect her. As for Jordan? He’s dead to me.] Jordan froze. He felt like the floor had dropped out from under him. Madison told Daniel that he forced her? But… before they officially became a couple after Daniel’s death, Jordan had never even looked at her that way. Had he? His memory of that hotel room was a fog of alcohol and blackouts. Something was wrong. He pulled out his phone and started making calls. He needed to find the security footage from that hotel. He needed the truth. 6 The diary pages turned. [May 27th, 2019. Today, Maddie told me she’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father. Finally, something good. A real family. I’m working so much to save up for the baby, so I asked my mom to come move in and help out. My sister, Lucy, just finished her exams and wanted to find a summer job nearby too. But Maddie said no. She was adamant. I decided to rent them a place in the apartment downstairs instead. I just wanted them close in case Maddie needed anything.] [July 15th. Maddie found out Mom and Lucy are living downstairs. She screamed at me for hours. She held a kitchen knife to her own throat and told me if I didn’t kick them out, she’d kill herself and the baby. I was terrified. I agreed to send them back.] [July 18th. I told the landlord we’d be out in a week.] [July 19th. My mother is dead. And Maddie lost the baby.] “Wait, what? How?” “How did the mom die?” “Why was Madison so psycho about the mother-in-law? Bringing a knife to her own throat? That’s extreme.” “Suddenly Daniel isn’t looking like the crazy one here…” I watched the words on the screen, and the nightmare of that day flooded back. I had seen my mom in the elevator that morning. She was carrying groceries, smiling. She told me she was going to make a batch of Madison’s favorite dumplings before she left. In our family, it was a tradition—a mother’s handmade meal to give the pregnant daughter-in-law “good fortune” for a safe delivery. I was in meetings all morning. When I finally checked my phone at lunch, I had forty-three missed calls from my sister. My heart stopped. When I called back, Lucy was hysterical. She said there had been an accident. Both Mom and Madison were at the hospital. I never saw my mother alive again. The story I was told was that Mom had come upstairs to bring the dumplings. She had tripped on the landing and fallen down the stairs, hitting her head. Madison had seen it happen, and the shock had caused her to miscarry. I lost my mother and my child in the same hour. In the hospital room, Madison looked like a ghost. She gripped my hand, her voice a fragile whisper. “Daniel, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, if I’d just let her stay with us, she wouldn’t have been on those stairs…” She was grieving, bleeding, and yet she was comforting me. I told her it wasn’t her fault. I blamed myself for not being there to protect them. I swallowed the bitterness. Looking back now, as a spirit, I see that my mother’s death was only the beginning of the harvest. 7 [July 22nd, 2019. I took two weeks off to take my mother’s ashes back to our hometown for the burial. Maddie was still recovering, so I hired a nurse for her. My dad said he’d meet me at the station. He said he had something important to tell me, something he’d found in Mom’s things. At 4:00 PM, my father was killed in a hit-and-run on his way to meet me.] The police report said he’d lost control of his motorcycle and gone over a cliff. No witnesses. No cameras. An “accident.” I lost both parents in a single week. My hair literally turned white over the next few days. I was a walking corpse. By the time I finished the funerals and returned to the city, it was August. [August 2nd. Lucy got her acceptance letter for the university here in town. With Mom and Dad gone, she’s all I have left. Maddie is my soul, but Lucy is my blood.] [August 24th. I dropped Lucy off at the dorms. I watched her walk onto that campus and prayed she’d have the life our parents wanted for her. A bright future.] [August 30th. Lucy is missing.] [September 1st. Explicit photos of Lucy are all over the internet. Someone leaked them to the university board.] [September 2nd. Lucy jumped from the roof of the science building. She’s gone.] 8 Jax stopped reading. He stared at the page as if the ink were burning his eyes. The chat, usually a storm of activity, went completely silent for a long, heavy moment. I know what they were thinking. They were finally feeling the weight of it. I touched the phantom space where my heart used to be. I’ve been dead so long I’d forgotten what that kind of pain felt like. That year had wrung me dry. It had hollowed me out until there was nothing left but the shell. Finally, a single comment broke the silence: “This is too much.” Then, a flood. Too much. This is a nightmare. Poor guy. Jax sighed, a heavy, ragged sound. “To lose everyone… your mom, your dad, your baby, your sister… all in a few months? I’d lose my mind too.” Someone in the chat pushed back: “Wait, let’s be real. The parents were accidents. The sister was a tragedy, but you can’t blame his wife for that. Just because his life was sad doesn’t give him the right to become an abuser.” “Exactly. He probably snapped and took it out on the only person left. Madison is the one I feel for. She lost her in-laws, her baby, and then had to live with a husband who went psychotic.” In the villa, Jordan clung to that thought. He felt a wave of guilt for doubting Madison. The “internet” was right. Daniel was a victim of circumstance, but Madison was a victim of Daniel. He walked upstairs to check on her. He found her huddled under the covers, sobbing quietly. When she saw him, she lunged into his arms. “Jordan, I’m having nightmares,” she wailed, her body shaking. “I dream about Daniel with that knife… he’s coming for me… please don’t let him get me!” Jordan stroked her hair, whispering promises of safety. He cursed himself for watching that show. It was a circus, a disgusting exploitation of her pain. She was pregnant. She needed peace. He decided to go back down and turn off the TV for good. But as he reached for the remote, Jax flipped to a new page. Jax’s voice boomed through the quiet living room, frozen with a new intensity. [January 1st, 2020. I found it. I found the truth. All of it.] 9 The chat exploded. “January 1st? That was the day of the attack! The day he chased her with the knife!” “I remember the video! It went viral. He was arrested and held for three days.” “Madison did that interview right after, crying about years of abuse. The neighbors backed her up.” “The whole country wanted his head. And then he got out of jail and hung himself. We all thought it was ‘guilt’ or ‘cowardice.’” “Jax, what did he find? What was the truth? READ IT!” Jax teased the camera, drawing out the suspense before turning the journal toward the lens. But the page was blank. “What? Are you kidding me?” Jax flipped through the remaining pages. Blank. Blank. Blank. He reached the very last page of the notebook. There, scrawled in frantic, jagged handwriting, were three lines: [My life is over. If anyone ever finds this, open the third drawer of the desk in the study. Press the false back on the left. The secret of my death is waiting for you there.] Jax scrambled toward the study, the camera lurching with him. He fumbled with the desk drawer, his fingers frantic. He pressed, he pried, and suddenly, a small compartment clicked open. He pulled out an old, cracked smartphone. It wouldn’t turn on, but Jax—ever the pro—popped out the microSD card. “I’ve got a reader in my laptop,” he whispered. The chat held its collective breath as he plugged the card in and synced it to the stream. Two video files appeared on the screen. He clicked the first one. My face filled the frame.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400787”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

This was supposed to be the day. For the ninety-ninth time, I was standing in the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway of the County Clerk’s office, waiting to finally sign the papers that would make Regina Montgomery my wife. Then her phone buzzed. A FaceTime call. It was Toby. Her “best friend.” He was sobbing, his face pressed uncomfortably close to the camera, filming himself on a sidewalk downtown. Apparently, he’d tried to ride a city bike in skinny jeans, and his zipper had gotten caught in the chain. He was trapped, howling about the pain and the embarrassment of people staring. Regina’s hand froze over the marriage license application. Her eyes went wide with a mix of panic and maternal instinct that she never seemed to reserve for me. She started to turn, her bag already sliding onto her shoulder. I grabbed her wrist, my grip tighter than I intended. “Regina, my father is on a ventilator,” I said, my voice thick with a desperation I hated. “This is his last wish. The only thing he’s holding on for.” According to my father’s ironclad trust, only a marriage certificate could trigger the release of the family’s offshore holdings—a private global vault that would secure our future and save my family’s legacy. Regina knew this. She knew my father was counting his breaths. But she looked at me like I was the one being unreasonable. With a frantic, manic energy, she grabbed the application, ripped it into a dozen jagged pieces, and threw them into the air. They fluttered like dead butterflies in the drafty hallway. “Toby is a mess, Jack! He’s sensitive, he can’t handle things like this alone!” she shouted. “You’re leaving? Now?” “Just… just put the pieces back together!” she yelled over her shoulder as she ran toward the exit. “Glue them back, and I’ll come back and be your bride later, okay? I promise!” She kicked off her designer heels to run faster, disappearing into the gray curtain of the afternoon rain. Almost instantly, my phone chimed. It was a text from Toby, sent through the same phone he’d just used to cry for help. Face it, loser. You’ll never be her priority. Just accept your place in the nosebleeds. In that moment, the exhaustion I’d been carrying for years finally solidified into a cold, hard stone in my gut. She never intended to marry me. Not really. I looked at the shredded paper on the floor. If the goal was simply to fulfill a dying man’s wish and secure the vault… did it really have to be her? An hour later, Regina returned. She was drenched, her hair matted to her face, carrying Toby piggyback because his pants were torn open at the crotch. She looked exhausted but wore that self-righteous glow of a martyr. She reached out with the same hand she’d just used to help Toby zip his fly, reaching for the scraps of our license on the desk. “Okay,” she panted, looking for a stamp. “Let’s just do the thumbprint thing and get it over with.” I didn’t move. I reached out and flipped the notary’s desk over. The crash echoed through the quiet office like a gunshot. “Take those hands,” I said, my voice terrifyingly calm, “and save them for changing Toby’s diapers. Because you’re never touching me again.” 1 Regina froze, then surged forward, trying to wrap her damp arms around my neck. She did that little pout—the one that used to make me melt. “Jack, don’t be such a baby! He’s a klutz! He was literally stuck to a bike, what was I supposed to do? Leave him exposed on 5th Avenue?” She tried to nuzzle my cheek, but I jerked my head away. I felt a wave of nausea. “And besides,” she continued, her voice going high and sweet, “this is our ninety-ninth try. You always forgive me. It’s kind of our thing, right?” Before I could answer, Toby—still standing there in his shredded jeans—shoved his shoulder into mine. Hard. I wasn’t expecting it. I stumbled back, my ribs slamming into the sharp edge of a heavy industrial printer. A white-hot flash of pain flared in my side. Regina, as if trying to prove she cared more about me than him, lunged forward to “catch” me. Instead, her elbow slammed directly into the pit of my stomach. I doubled over, the world turning gray at the edges. “Oh my god, honey! Are you okay?” she shrieked. She started hitting my back—hard, panicked thumps that landed right where the pain was radiating. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like an assault disguised as an apology. Toby rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall. “Seriously, man? Regina ran through a monsoon to get back to you. She’s soaking wet, and you’re acting like a drama queen because of a little bump?” He reached out and playfully slapped Regina’s wet hip. She giggled, swiveling her body to swat him away with a limp hand. “Stop it, Toby! You’re making your brother-in-law jealous,” she cooed. The way they looked at each other—it wasn’t a reprimand. It was foreplay. The rage that had been simmering for years finally boiled over. I shoved her away, hard enough that she had to catch her balance on the overturned desk. “The wedding is off,” I said. “I hope you two have a long, miserable life together.” Regina’s face dropped. She tried to soften her voice again. “Jack, come on. Your dad is literally on his deathbed waiting for this. Don’t do this to him.” She knew. She knew my father’s heart was failing, and she’d still walked away for a zipper. My father’s last wish was to see me settled, to hand over the keys to the empire he’d built so I wouldn’t be left alone in the world. I had wanted Regina because I loved her—or at least, I loved the version of her I’d invented in my head. But looking at Toby’s smug grin and Regina’s fake tears, the fantasy shattered. If she didn’t care, why should I? Once I had that certificate and the vault was open, I could have any life I wanted. And Regina? The Montgomery family was hemorrhaging cash. Her father’s firm was a hollow shell, drowning in debt. Her mother had cornered me at a gala last month, crying, saying only my family’s trust could save them from bankruptcy. Regina knew better than anyone: if this marriage didn’t happen, her father would be out on the street by Christmas. Seeing my silence, Regina tried to climb back into my space. “Jack, babe… I’ll be better next time. I promise.” 2 Next time. I almost laughed. On the ninety-eighth attempt, she’d left because Toby’s cat was “depressed” and needed an emergency vet visit. I’d chased after her, tripped, and spent two weeks on crutches with a torn ligament. On the seventy-third attempt, she’d shoved me out of the way to catch a cab for Toby’s birthday party. I’d fallen into a construction barrier, slicing my arm open. She’d just poked her head out the window and yelled, “Clean it up yourself, babe! Toby’s cake is melting!” Every single time, it was the same: “I’ll make it up to you next time.” I was done. I turned to walk away, but I felt a sharp tug at my waist. Regina had reached out and, in a fit of manic playfulness, yanked my belt and trousers down. She let out a sharp, jagged giggle. “There! Since you’re so jealous of Toby’s accident, now you can feel what it’s like. Now we’re even, so stop being grumpy!” Toby barked out a laugh. “Look at you, Jack. Losing your pants just to get some attention? What’s next? When you finally marry Regina, are we going for a threesome?” Regina didn’t argue. She just looked at him with a glimmer of something dark and expectant in her eyes. Something inside my brain snapped. Slap. The sound of my hand hitting Regina’s cheek was the loudest thing in the room. “I am your fiancé,” I said, my voice a low, vibrating growl as I pulled my clothes back into place. “You think humiliating me is a game?” Toby lunged. He swung a fist that caught me right in the jaw. My vision swam. “Don’t you touch her!” he screamed. Before I could recover, he drove his knee into my stomach. I collapsed, the air leaving my lungs in a pathetic wheeze. Regina rushed over, but she didn’t help me up. She hovered over me, her face a mask of faux-concern that didn’t reach her eyes. Toby pointed at me, his voice trembling with manufactured rage. “He hit you, Regina! You can’t marry a monster like this! He’ll ruin you!” I wanted to scream. I had given her ninety-nine chances. They had trampled on my soul, and the one time I pushed back, I was the villain. Fine. I reached out, grabbed a heavy metal paperweight from the floor, and swung it at Toby’s shin with everything I had left. The sound of the bone snapping was sickeningly clear. Toby shrieked, hitting the floor. But within seconds, his expression shifted. He bit his lip, looking up at Regina like a wounded puppy. “Regina… Jack broke my leg,” he whimpered. “It hurts so bad… but please, don’t fight because of me.” It was the same act. The time she ran out on our wedding dress fitting because he called saying he was scared of a thunderstorm. The time she left our families’ introductory dinner to bring him soup. Regina fell for it instantly. She turned to me, her face contorted with fury. “Are you insane? Apologize to him! Now!” I stared at her, cold and unresponsive. “Fine,” she hissed, pulling out her phone. “Let’s see how tough you are when the world sees the real Jack Miller.” My phone vibrated violently in my pocket. I pulled it out, and the blood drained from my face. Regina had just posted a thread to her thousands of followers. It was a collection of photos from the dark months three years ago—photos I thought were private. Me in a collar she’d bought, red welts on my neck. Me on the floor, tears of humiliation in my eyes during a “game” she forced me to play. “Look at my puppy when he loses a game,” the caption read. “He’s so cute when he begs for forgiveness. Just had to make him meow a little to remind him who’s in charge.” Every word was a scalpel, flaying my dignity in front of the world. I looked up at her, my heart turning to ash. 3 She was actually doing it. She was using my trauma as a weapon. Three years ago, Regina had been kidnapped by a predatory stalker. When I finally found her, she was a broken shell of a person, terrified of lights and loud noises. I had spent every waking hour nursing her back to health. But her mind had warped. She decided that the only way she could feel safe was if I was the one in a position of total submission. For six months, I had played along with her twisted psychological games. I’d let her lock me in dark rooms, let her humiliate me, all because I thought it was “healing” her. I thought it was love. Now I realized it was just a leash. I turned to leave, but Regina snatched my car keys from the counter, the ring cutting into my palm. “Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded. “You broke Toby’s leg! I’m taking your car to get him to the E.R.” She didn’t wait for an answer. The engine roared to life, and the car sped away, leaving me standing in the rain. I closed my eyes, forcing the violent impulses down. Talking to her was a waste of breath. I walked to the curb and hailed a cab. The driver looked at me in the rearview mirror, his expression a mix of disgust and mockery. Halfway to my destination, he slammed on the brakes in the middle of a desolate stretch of road near the woods. He held up his phone. It was Regina’s post. “I don’t drive freaks like you,” he spat. “Get out.” He shoved me out and sped off. As I landed in the tall grass by the ditch, I felt a sharp, searing pain in the back of my hand. I looked down. A copperhead snake, startled by my fall, had latched onto my skin. I flung it off, my heart hammering. My hand began to go numb. Trembling, I hit the emergency contact on my phone. Regina. Habit is a cruel thing. She picked up on the second ring. “What? Calling to crawl back?” “Regina… I’ve been bitten. By a snake. I’m out on Old Creek Road…” “Oh, for God’s sake, Jack! Stop faking for attention! Toby is in actual pain. Unless you’re ready to apologize to him, don’t call me again!” The line went dead. She didn’t care if I lived or died. I sat there for a moment, the venom beginning to cloud my thoughts. Then, I opened my contacts and scrolled past Regina’s name. I clicked on a contact labeled “The Enemy.” [Jack]: Getting married. You in? The reply was instant. [Claire Sinclair]: The kind with the vault? [Jack]: Yes. [Claire]: Send me your location. I’m coming to get you. 4 The E.R. smelled of bleach and misery. The doctor was finishing the antivenom drip for the bite on my hand. Claire Sinclair sat in the corner, calmly handling the paperwork for my admission. As I walked toward the exit, I saw them. Regina was knelt on the floor in front of Toby, carefully using a damp cloth to wipe his feet. “There you go, Jay,” she whispered. “Lift your arms for me.” Toby complied, leaning back and shooting me a smirk of pure triumph as I passed. I stopped. My heart felt like it had been encased in ice. I remembered when I had a double kidney infection and was shaking with fever; Regina had been on a Discord call with Toby, laughing at a game. She’d told me, “Order a DoorDash or something, babe, Toby’s about to hit a legendary streak!” I’d spent years thinking she was just flighty. I realized now she was perfectly capable of care—just not for me. Regina looked up, her expression turning into a scowl. “Jack, I really don’t have time for your drama right now. Toby’s injury is serious. Go home. I’ll explain everything later.” The ice in my chest shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. “You don’t have to explain anything,” I said. I turned and walked away. “Fine! Go!” she yelled after me. “See if I care!” Claire met me at the door. We didn’t go home. We went straight to a 24-hour courthouse in the next county over. Photos taken. Forms filled. Stamps pressed. It was clinical. Efficient. Claire looked at the marriage certificate, her face unreadable. “A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Miller.” “Likewise, Mrs. Miller,” I replied. We drove straight to the hospital where my father lay. Claire stepped up to the bed, taking the old man’s hand. “Dad,” I whispered. “We’re married. Everything is taken care of.” My father looked at me, then at Claire—the daughter of his oldest rival, a woman as sharp as a razor. He closed his eyes, a look of profound peace washing over him, and pressed a heavy, antique key into my palm. The next day, I arranged a meeting with Claire’s parents at a high-end spa resort. As I walked past the outdoor thermal pools, I saw a familiar sight. Toby was lounging in the water, his leg in a waterproof cast. Regina was sitting on the edge, hand-feeding him grapes. “Regina, you’re too good to him,” one of their hangers-on laughed. “Doesn’t your husband-to-be get jealous?” Regina let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Ugh, don’t even mention him! He’s so exhausting. Yesterday he tried to follow me around like a kicked puppy, begging me to come back. His dad is probably dead by now, which means Jack needs me more than ever. He’ll be worshiping the ground I walk on by dinner time.” The delusion was staggering. I kept walking, wanting to avoid the stench of them, but I only got two steps before a sharp, blinding pain exploded in the back of my head. A heavy, spiked durian fruit—likely from the decorative buffet nearby—thudded to the ground at my feet, stained with my blood. Toby was splashing in the pool, howling with laughter. “Whoops! Look at that! It’s Jackie-boy! Were you eavesdropping, man?” Regina frowned, looking at the blood dripping down my neck. “Jack! Why were you sneaking around? You scared Toby so bad his hand slipped!” She stood up, gesturing for me to come closer. “Just come apologize to him for scaring him, and we can put this whole mess behind us.” The wound throbbed. My heart felt like it had been run over by a truck. “Apologize? To him?” I bent down and picked up the blood-stained fruit. “I think breaking one leg wasn’t enough,” I said, my voice dropping an octave. “You still have way too much energy to use that mouth of yours.” I wound back my arm and threw the fruit with every ounce of rage I had stored for ten years.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400786”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I moved across the Atlantic for Nathan. I traded my life, my career, and my proximity to everyone I loved for the promise of a future with him. But for five years, my residency application has been a cycle of delays and rejections. Meanwhile, Jade—the “family friend” Nathan insisted on taking in—secured her permanent residency in just three months. Nathan personally hired an elite immigration firm to fast-track her case, claiming it was an emergency. In the wake of that disappointment, I told him I wanted to go home. To London. Nathan crumbled. He held me, weeping, begging me to stay. “Summer, you’re my wife,” he whispered into my hair. “Your papers will come through eventually. It’s just red tape. But Jade is different. She’s alone here. Without that status, she could be deported at any moment. Please, just do this for me. Stay.” Once again, I let his tears anchor me. I stayed. Until today. I was at the immigration office for a routine status review. The clerk frowned, clicking through her screen with an expression of pure confusion. “Ma’am,” she said, squinting at my file. “The system shows that Mr. Nathan Thorne’s legal spouse is… a Ms. Jade.” She looked up, her voice softening with pity. “Did you perhaps fill out the wrong form?” The world turned to ice. It wasn’t just the green card I had been waiting for these past five years. Even my title—his wife—was a lie. I didn’t go home. I drove straight to JFK. Just before boarding, a final text from him lit up my screen: Stop being dramatic. Just come home. But Nathan, we haven’t had a home for a long time. 1 The clerk watched me, waiting for a response. When I didn’t speak, she cleared her throat and repeated herself, “Ma’am, you might want to double-check your records…” I snapped back to reality and pulled the paperwork across the desk. I managed a tight, hollow smile. “No need. Thank you.” For a split second, my instinct was to call Nathan. To demand an explanation, to hear the lie he’d inevitably craft to cover this. The phone rang for a long time. When someone finally picked up, it wasn’t Nathan. It was Jade. “Summer? Nathan’s in a board meeting,” she said, her voice dripping with that practiced, fragile sweetness. “Is it urgent? You can tell me and I’ll pass it along. Although, unless it’s about the grocery list, I doubt it’s anything he needs to worry about right now.” She paused, letting the silence sting. “We’re actually in the middle of a merger. You know how it is. You probably shouldn’t bother him with domestic stuff while he’s working.” I couldn’t find my voice. The irony was a physical weight in my chest. In the background, I heard Nathan’s muffled voice. “Who is it?” Jade chuckled softly. “No one, honey. Just a… telemarketer. Go back to the contract.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen of my phone until a single tear splashed onto the glass. Then, I started to laugh. A bitter, jagged sound. Looking back, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Nathan and Jade had grown up together. She was the “one who got away,” his first love, the girl his parents had always wanted for him. I knew that when we started dating. But Nathan had taken my hand, looked into my eyes with such convincing devotion, and promised me: That’s the past, Summer. You’re my present. You’re my everything. And like a fool, I believed him. Shortly after we moved to New York, Jade suddenly appeared, claiming a job offer had brought her to the city. Nathan was frantic about her safety. She’s a young woman alone in a strange city, Summer. I wouldn’t sleep knowing she was in some sketchy apartment. Please, let her stay with us. So, Jade moved into our guest room. She moved into our lives. Then, she “happened” to get a job as his executive assistant. Anyone with eyes could see it. But Nathan always had the same defense: She’s like a sister to me. Don’t be so insecure. So I closed my eyes. I plugged my ears. I played the role of the perfect, supportive wife. Before I left London, my mother had watched me pack my life into three suitcases. She didn’t try to stop me—she knew I was too far gone in love to listen. She just gave me a tired, knowing smile. “You’re young, Summer. You’ll learn,” she said. “A woman who lives on an allowance lives on a leash. The moment he decides to stop feeding you, you’ll realize you have nothing of your own.” “Being a housewife is a dangerous gamble,” she warned. “And the house always wins.” I was young then. I thought love was a shield. I didn’t take a dime from my family. I followed him across the world with nothing but a heart full of fire, facing a foreign country and a life of isolation. I spent five years adapting. Five years making his life comfortable. And all the while, he had already moved on. My mother was right. I was a guest in my own life. I pulled out my phone and, with trembling fingers, booked the next flight to Heathrow. Tonight. Five years. I didn’t have another five years to waste on a man who didn’t even consider me his wife. The confirmation email popped up. Seconds later, Nathan’s name flashed on the screen. He was calling back. 2 “Summer, I was in a meeting. What’s up?” “Are you at the office?” I asked, my voice eerily calm. “I’m coming over. We need to talk.” Nathan sounded annoyed. “Now? That’s not a great time. I have a dinner with the partners. If it’s not a crisis, we can talk when I get home—” “It won’t wait,” I interrupted. The edge in my voice caught him off guard. Usually, I was the one who adjusted, the one who understood. He sighed. “Is this about the residency thing again? Summer, I’ve told you, you’re my wife. Under the law, it’s just a matter of time. Besides, you don’t even work. Why are you so obsessed with a green card?” “I take care of you, don’t I?” He’d said that a thousand times. Every time, it had sounded like a romantic vow. Now, it sounded like a threat. Take care of me? As what? His mistress? His live-in help? I didn’t give him the satisfaction of an argument over the phone. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” I said, and hung up. I needed to look him in the eye when the truth came out. Because I didn’t understand high finance, I rarely visited his office. Nathan was always “too busy,” and I didn’t want to be a distraction. The receptionist had to check my ID for five minutes before she finally buzzed me up to his floor. When I reached his office, the door was slightly ajar. I could hear voices—Nathan’s friends, the “inner circle” of guys he’d known since college. “So, Nate, seriously,” one of them said, his tone thick with smugness. “When are you and Jade finally going to have the real wedding? I’ve got the gift money ready.” “Seriously,” another chimed in. “You’ve been ‘married’ on paper for five years now. You should have a kid by now. Why keep up the charade?” Then came Jade’s voice, fluttering with false modesty. “Oh, stop it, you guys. Nathan only married me so I could get my status. It was a favor.” She lowered her voice, though not enough to keep me from hearing. “If Summer heard you talking like this, she’d get the wrong idea.” The first guy snorted. “So let her. If it weren’t for Nathan, she’d be back in London working some dead-end job. She’s lucky he’s kept her around this long. It’s not like she brings anything to the table like you do, Jade. She’s basically just a high-end housekeeper.” He laughed. “Nate, honestly. Just make it official with Jade. Give the housekeeper a nice severance package and send her packing.” I froze, my hand hovering over the handle. I waited for Nathan to defend me. I waited for him to roar, to throw them out, to tell them that I was the love of his life. There was a silence. Then, Nathan let out a lazy, noncommittal dry laugh. “Alright, knock it off. Jade’s blushing.” “As for the situation at home…” he paused. “She’s been a bit moody lately. I’ll just have to smooth things over. If she can’t handle it, well… we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” Cross that bridge. The meaning was clear. I was a problem to be “handled” or discarded. The room erupted in knowing laughter. I didn’t stand there like a ghost. I pushed the door open. 3 The room went dead silent. Four sets of eyes snapped toward the door. Nathan’s smile didn’t just fade; it curdled. “Summer? What are you—” He scrambled to his feet, his face a mask of panicked damage control. He rushed toward me. “You’re early. I told you to call me from the lobby so I could come down and get you.” I didn’t move. I just looked at him. The silence stretched until Nathan’s confidence began to crack. He searched my face, looking for the usual softness, the usual forgiveness. “You… you heard that?” he whispered. He tried to laugh it off, gesturing to his friends. “We were just joking around, babe. Locker room talk. Don’t worry about the papers—I’ll have your application pushed through next month, I promise.” I still didn’t speak. My gaze drifted past him, scanning the faces of the men who had just called me a housekeeper. Finally, I spoke. “No need, Nathan. I can see I’m interrupting. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your… merger.” I’d heard enough. If I stayed and demanded an explanation now, I’d just be the hysterical woman they already thought I was. I would be a caricature of a scorned wife. I had a flight to catch. I just wanted to go back to the house, pack my things, and disappear. But as I turned to leave, Jade reached out and grabbed my sleeve. And then, the performance began. “Summer, wait! Please don’t go! It’s not what it looks like!” she cried, her eyes instantly welling with tears. She looked like a Victorian heroine in distress. “Nathan and I… the marriage is just a legal thing. It means nothing! Please don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault, I asked him to help me!” I looked down at her hand on my arm. “If you’re so worried about me being mad, you should let go.” Jade gripped tighter. “I won’t! Not until you forgive him! Not until you tell us you’re okay!” She actually started to sink to her knees, as if she were going to beg. “Summer, please! I promise, as soon as my status is permanent, I’ll divorce him. I swear! Just don’t let this ruin your marriage!” The guys in the room were looking at me with increasing disgust. To them, I was the cold, heartless woman bullying a weeping girl. Something inside me snapped. “What are you doing, Jade?” I asked, my voice cold as a razor. “Your mother was a social climber who slept her way into my father’s circle, and you’re exactly like her. You’ve spent five years trying to crawl into my husband’s bed while pretending to be his ‘sister.’ And now you want my forgiveness?” “Are you going to play the martyr now, just like she did?” Jade let out a sob that sounded like a wounded animal. Nathan’s face went purple with rage. He stepped between us, shoving my shoulder back. “That is enough!” he roared. “Summer, watch your mouth! You will not talk to her like that. We’ll go home and settle this behind closed doors. Don’t act like a common shrew in front of my colleagues.” The way he shielded her—the pure, protective instinct in his eyes—was the final nail. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I just wanted my arm back. I pulled away, trying to wrench my sleeve from Jade’s grip. I barely used any force. “Ah—!” Jade shrieked. She stumbled back, throwing herself toward the sharp corner of the glass coffee table. She hit the edge with her side and collapsed onto the sofa, clutching her stomach. Her face went pale. “The baby…” she gasped. “Nathan… our baby…” Baby? Before the word could even register, Nathan slammed into me, knocking me aside. “Summer, you’re a goddamn psychopath!” he screamed. “She was trying to make peace, and you tried to kill her?” I hit the wall, my shoulder throbbing. I looked at him, bewildered. “Nathan, you were standing right there. I barely touched her. She fell on purpose.” “And a baby?” I choked out. “You got her pregnant? How do you have the nerve to stand there and judge me?” Nathan was beyond reason. Every word out of his mouth was a poisoned arrow. “So what if I did? You forget yourself, Summer.” “I have paid for every breath you’ve taken for five years. I own that house. I own the car you drove here. I own the clothes on your back.” 4 “From this second, your cards are cancelled. Your access to the house is revoked. Without me, Summer, you are nothing in this city. You’ll be on the street like a stray dog.” Without another look at me, Nathan scooped Jade up in his arms. He turned to his stunned friends. “Don’t just stand there! Call an ambulance! No, forget it, I’ll drive her myself. Move!” They swept out of the room in a frantic rush, leaving me alone in the middle of his glass-and-steel empire, rubbing my bruised shoulder. I laughed. A small, quiet sound in the empty office. Well, Summer. There it is. Five years of devotion. Five years of “us.” This was the ending I’d earned. It was almost a relief. The tie was finally severed. I knew Nathan. He was a man of his word when it came to cruelty. He would freeze the accounts. He would lock the doors. Fine. He could keep the designer bags and the jewelry he’d bought to assuage his guilt. I didn’t want the stench of his money on me anymore. Luckily, I had my passport and my ID in my bag from the immigration office. That was all I needed. I walked out of the building, hailed a yellow cab, and told the driver: “JFK. International terminal.” Nathan knew, deep down, that Jade was probably exaggerating. But he wanted to test me. He’d spent five years building a world where I was a bird in a gilded cage. He thought if he took away the gold, I’d come crawling back, begging for a perch. He thought infidelity was something he could “manage” with a few sweet words and a diamond necklace. After all, he was the provider. He pulled out his phone and officially froze my supplementary credit cards and the smart-lock code to the penthouse. He sent a text: Have you learned your lesson yet? Come to the hospital. Apologize to Jade. If you do, I’ll consider letting this go. But Nathan had forgotten something. I had a life before him. I had a home, a family, and a degree that didn’t belong to him. I hadn’t asked him to support me; I had sacrificed my independence because I loved him. When I saw the text, I didn’t even feel angry. I just felt pity for him. I didn’t reply. Three hours passed. The sun set over the city. No response. Nathan started to fidget. He knew I didn’t have a personal bank account in the States. He knew I didn’t carry much cash—it wasn’t safe. I couldn’t even afford a decent motel. He figured I was wandering around Central Park, crying, waiting for him to call and save me. Five hours later, guilt—or perhaps the fear of losing his favorite toy—started to set in. He sent another text: I’ve unblocked the cards and the door. Just go home. It’s late. It’s not safe for you to be out. We’ll talk about this properly in the morning. Still nothing. An hour after that, Nathan couldn’t sit still. He checked the bank alerts. No activity on the cards. He checked the Nest camera at the front door. The hallway was empty. Midnight in New York. A woman alone, with no car and nowhere to go. His heart hammered against his ribs. He paced the hospital waiting room, typing and deleting messages. Finally, he sent one last text: Stop being dramatic. Just come home. I didn’t see it until I was at the gate. I read it, blocked his number, and deleted the thread in one smooth motion. I turned off the phone and stepped onto the plane. As the wheels left the tarmac, I watched the lights of New York shrink into a grid of tiny diamonds, then vanish into the clouds. No tears. No longing. Just the sudden, overwhelming ability to breathe. Goodbye, Nathan. Back at the hospital, Nathan was spiraling. He was about to swallow his pride and call me when his phone rang. It was Miles, one of his oldest friends from back home. “Hey, Nate. I just landed at JFK—didn’t want to bug you for a ride. I thought you said you and Summer were gonna show me around this week?” “Listen, I think I just saw her at the airport. At the international terminal. Gate for the London flight.” “Is she going home?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400785”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I had spent eight years of my life loving Bria Hamilton. Now, we were standing at the altar, a “shotgun wedding” meant to seal our forever. The officiant cleared his throat, the sound echoing through the vaulted stone chapel. “Miles Crawford, do you take Brianna Hamilton to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The words were on the tip of my tongue, ready to be offered up like a sacrifice. But before I could speak, a tiny, high-pitched voice—sharp as a needle—exploded inside my head. [Dad! Don’t do it! Bria’s baby isn’t yours!] [The kid in her belly belongs to your brother!] My brain felt like it had short-circuited. My vision blurred for a second as those two sentences burned through my consciousness. The entire guest list was staring at me, waiting for the “I do,” but I was frozen, a statue in a designer tux. If Bria’s baby wasn’t mine… then whose voice was this? Who was this child calling me “Dad”? A split second later, the voice chimed in again, sounding exasperated. [Stupid Dad! She’s been playing you for years. If you marry her, she’s going to lock you in the basement and take everything!] [Quick! Ask for help from my mom! She’s the beautiful, rich one in the front row!] I was reeling. My eyes instinctively darted toward the front row, landing on Helena Vanderwaal. She was the “Ice Queen” of the East Coast elite—a woman who lived in a world of high-stakes acquisitions and silent retreats. She was untouchable, ethereal, and famously single. 1 Even though it was my wedding day, the gravity of the room always seemed to pull toward Helena. She sat there with a cold, detached grace that made everyone else look like they were trying too hard. I caught her gaze—crystalline and indifferent—and immediately looked away, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Little one,” I thought, my mind racing, “do you have any idea who she is? That’s Helena Vanderwaal. She’s the CEO of the Vanderwaal Group. She doesn’t have a man in her life, let alone a child. How could you be hers?” “I know things are messy with Bria, but you can’t just make things up. You can’t just pick a billionaire to be your mother. Get real.” “It’s too late to find a new mom now. Maybe in the next life, kid.” I tried to soothe the voice, assuming it was some hallucination born of cold feet and trauma. But the voice screamed back, louder this time: [Did you seriously forget that night at the St. Regis?] [Your wife and your brother drugged you! They were going to ‘gift’ you to a client to close a deal, but you stumbled into the wrong suite…] [The woman in that bed was Helena Vanderwaal!] The memory hit me like a physical blow. The St. Regis. Three months ago. I had woken up in a haze, the sheets smelling of expensive perfume and something metallic. I remembered a back covered in faint red marks and the rhythm of frantic breathing in the dark. I had thought it was Bria. I thought we had just… had a wild night. But looking at Helena now, I remembered the way she had clung to my neck, her poise shattered, her cries muffled against my shoulder. The “Ice Queen” had been molten lava that night. The officiant, sensing the awkward silence stretching too long, repeated the question: “Mr. Miles Crawford, do you take Brianna Hamilton to be your wife?” Bria squeezed my arm, her smile tight with growing concern. “Miles? What’s wrong? Just nerves?” she whispered, her voice like honeyed poison. She scratched the palm of my hand playfully. “Don’t be scared. Once we’re married, I’ll give you everything.” [Don’t believe her! she bought a house right next to your new place just so she can keep sleeping with Tristan!] The jolt of adrenaline was so sharp I nearly jumped. I took a deep breath and shouted: “I don’t!” The room erupted. The Hamiltons were old money in this town. Rejecting Bria in front of the crème de la crème of society was unthinkable. Especially since I had spent years being Bria’s “lapdog,” the guy who had shamelessly chased her until she finally said yes. I was the “wild” Crawford son who had finally been tamed. And now, at the finish line, I was walking away. Bria’s face turned a sickly shade of gray. “Miles, stop playing. This is the wedding! If you’re upset about something, we can talk after the reception…” [If you wait until after the reception, she wins! My mom is leaving the country tonight to chase after her ‘Great Lost Love’!] [Dad, time is running out! Kick the liar to the curb and get your gorgeous, rich baby-mama back!] “I’m not marrying you,” I said, my voice hardening. A son wouldn’t lie to his father. If he said Bria was a snake, she was a snake. My brother, Tristan, stepped up onto the altar then, moving with a practiced, casual grace. He stood right next to Bria. “Miles, what kind of stunt is this? Bria is doing you a favor by marrying you. Don’t be an ass.” As he got closer, I noticed the ring on his finger. It was a diamond band, nearly identical to my wedding ring. But as the light hit it, I realized mine looked like a cheap imitation compared to the fire dancing on his hand. The realization settled in my gut like lead. The baby Bria was carrying—it was their plan. Tristan was the “adopted” golden boy, the one our parents adored. He didn’t have the pedigree to marry into the Hamiltons on his own. I was the bridge. I was the tool to merge the families, and then I’d be the “happy” father raising his brother’s child while they carried on their affair next door. My parents stood up, their faces purple with rage. “Miles Crawford! Haven’t you embarrassed this family enough? You think marriage is a joke?” “You begged for this girl! And now you’re throwing a tantrum? Why can’t you be more like Tristan? He actually understands what’s at stake!” “You are marrying her today, whether you like it or not!” 2 The wedding had devolved into a circus. Guests were whispering behind their programs, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of a scandal. “The Crawford boy is finally losing it,” I heard someone hiss. “He spent years acting like her shadow, and now he wants to back out? His parents are going to disinherit him by tonight.” “The adopted one is so much more grounded. At least he knows how to play the game.” “Shame. The biological son is always the disappointment.” The words stung, but they also cleared the fog. I realized that my reputation in this town had been systematically dismantled. I used to be the refined Crawford heir, but since Tristan entered the picture, my standing had evaporated. My father and Bria had slowly turned me into a caricature of a loser. Bria grabbed my hand, ignoring my rejection as she turned to the crowd with a forced, brave smile. “Miles is just having a bit of an episode. Please, excuse us. He’s just overwhelmed. We’re going to proceed.” I saw Tristan clenching his fist out of the corner of my eye. I took a sharp breath and wrenched my hand away from Bria. “I said no! I know about you and my brother! I know that baby in your womb belongs to Tristan!” The silence that followed was deafening. It was like a bomb had gone off in the chapel. [Attaboy, Dad! Rip the masks off those two!] [Tristan’s been the one leaking those ‘drunk’ photos of you to the press for years. He’s the reason everyone thinks you’re a joke!] The voice in my head was practically cheering. “What are you saying?” Tristan gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been shot. “Miles, you’ve always been hard on me, but this? To accuse me of something so vile in front of everyone?” “How could you use Bria’s pregnancy as an excuse to run away from your responsibilities?” Bria’s eyes flickered with a moment of pure panic before she smoothed it over with a look of righteous indignation. “Miles, this is too much! If you didn’t want to marry me, fine. But don’t drag Tristan into your delusions!” My father looked at me with pure disgust. “You’re sick, Miles. Truly sick. To humiliate your brother and your bride like this? I don’t know how we raised a son like you.” “You’ve made us the laughingstock of the city!” The guests were snickering now. “Unbelievable. The guy is actually delusional. Imagine accusing your own brother of that.” I ripped the boutonniere off my lapel and threw it on the floor. I turned to leave, but three heavy-set security guards blocked the exit. Bria seized the opportunity to grab my wrist again, her fingernails digging into my skin. “Once we’re married,” she hissed under her breath, her face twisting into something monstrous, “you’ll never be able to act out like this again.” I looked around. No one was on my side. They saw a clown, a liar, a man who needed to be controlled. For the first time in years, I saw the cage for what it was. [Dad, if the ceremony finishes, she’s going to have you committed to a ‘wellness retreat’ in the mountains. It’s a prison!] [There are black SUVs waiting outside. If you leave this room without help, they’ll snatch you!] [Dad! Look at my Mommy!] Helena? I looked toward her seat, but she was already standing up, signaling her assistant to leave. [No! She’s heading to the airport! She’s going to find the ‘Ghost of Christmas Past’!] She was my only lifeline. In a moment of pure desperation, I bit down hard on Bria’s hand. She shrieked and let go. I bolted, diving through the crowd toward Helena. Security lunged for me. I kicked over a table of champagne flutes, the crash of glass creating a momentary barricade of chaos. I ignored the screams and the splashing wine, focused entirely on the woman in the silk dress. Helena turned just as I reached her. I collided with her, nearly knocking her over. “Take me with you,” I gasped, clutching her shoulders. “Please.” Her face was a mask of cold porcelain. She shoved me back with surprising strength, brushing off her dress like I was a piece of filth she’d picked up in the street. “Get lost,” she said, her voice like dry ice. “I don’t do charity cases. And I certainly don’t touch men like you.” [She’s faking it, Dad! She’s totally putting on her ‘Boss Bitch’ act. Once she falls for you, she’s a total clinger!] Helena turned to walk away. I dropped to the floor and grabbed her ankle. Steps thundered behind me. Bria and the guards were closing in. My parents were staring at Helena with terror, terrified of her wrath. “We are so sorry, Ms. Vanderwaal,” my father stammered. “Our son… he’s had a mental break. We’ll handle him.” Bria chimed in, her voice trembling with fake humility. “I am so embarrassed. I’ll make sure he’s looked after, Ms. Vanderwaal. Please, forgive us.” Tristan stepped forward, looking at Helena with that thirsty, sycophantic gaze every man in the city had. Helena didn’t look at them. She looked down at my hand wrapped around her ankle. Tristan stepped up and ground his heel into the back of my hand. “Miles, let go of her! Stop embarrassing yourself!” I cried out in pain. Helena used the moment to pull her foot away, turning her back on me. As she stepped toward the door, I screamed the only thing I had left: “Helena! The baby you’re carrying is mine!” 3 Helena stopped dead. The entire room fell into a tomb-like silence. Every guest turned to look at me, and for the first time, it wasn’t mockery in their eyes—it was pity. They thought I was a dead man walking. Tristan’s mask slipped for a second, replaced by a glint of malicious joy. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Miles, if you wanted to climb the social ladder, you picked the highest cliff to jump off of.” “Helena Vanderwaal isn’t a woman you play with.” He was right. Everyone knew Helena lived like a nun. She wore a small, silver rosary around her wrist as a symbol of her detachment from the “filth” of romance. The last man who tried to force himself into her orbit had his life dismantled within forty-eight hours. “He’s literally asking for death,” someone whispered. “I thought he was just a loser, but he’s actually suicidal.” We all held our breath. Helena turned around slowly. Her lips were a thin line, her eyes freezing me in place. She began to twist the silver beads on her wrist—a sign, everyone knew, that she was losing her patience. “My baby?” she said, her voice dangerously low. “Mr. Crawford, you have a lot of nerve.” “No one in this city talks to me like that. I’ve heard about you—the pathetic groom who tries to pin his indiscretions on a woman like me to save his own skin?” The clicking of the beads was the only sound in the room. Bria lunged forward and grabbed my hair, forcing my head down toward the floor in a mock apology. “I am so sorry! He’s delusional! Miles, apologize! Now!” Bria didn’t care that I was claiming another woman’s baby. She just wanted to keep me under her thumb so she and Tristan could have their cake and eat it too. [Don’t worry, Dad! Once you prove the baby is yours, she won’t let them touch you!] [With the Vanderwaals behind you, these people are nothing!] Proof? I thought bitterly. What proof do I have? I barely even know who she is. My father stormed over and slapped me across the face—twice. “Apologize! You’re going to get us all killed!” Helena looked down at me like I was something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. I looked up at her, my vision swimming, and said as calmly as I could: “Helena. I saw the birthmark. The one shaped like a rose, just below your hip.” Helena froze. Her expression didn’t change, but her pupils blown wide. That mark was in an incredibly private place. No one could have known about it unless they had been… very close. The rest of the room was confused, but Tristan was quick to pivot. “Everyone has birthmarks, Miles. You’re grasping at straws. You probably saw it in a dream or heard a rumor. You really expect us to believe you’ve been with Ms. Vanderwaal?” “If you’re so sure, why don’t we do a paternity test? Right here. Right now.” Tristan was smug. He didn’t believe for a second that a nobody like me could have touched a woman like Helena. Even her presence at this wedding was a fluke, a result of Bria’s family spending a fortune on a charitable donation to Helena’s foundation. The crowd took up the chant. “Yeah! Test him! Let’s see the liar exposed!” “Kick him out of the city! He’s a disgrace!” Helena’s eyes were dark and unreadable. She knew she was pregnant—hardly anyone else did. And this man knew about the mark. Finally, she nodded. “Fine. We’ll do the test. I want to see you realize exactly how much you’ve screwed up before I ruin you.” [Dad, you’re the man! I can’t wait to see her face when the results come in!] [I’ll show you how to handle her. She’s going to be your biggest fan soon enough!] The scandal of the century was in motion. Within an hour, a private doctor arrived. Helena and I were both sampled while the guests hovered, sensing blood. Helena’s grandfather, the patriarch of the Vanderwaal family, had arrived by then. He stood in the corner, leaning on his cane, looking strangely hopeful. “Finally,” he muttered. “My granddaughter might actually have a husband.” Helena scoffed. “Don’t get your hopes up, Grandfather. Once this is over, he won’t be in any condition to walk, let alone marry.” I sat there, bruised and exhausted, watching the blood leave my arm. My parents were huddled together, whispering about how to disown me officially. Bria looked like she wanted to murder me. [It hurts, Dad, but it’s worth it! We’re almost there!] Finally, the doctor returned. He was pale, clutching a folder like it was a live grenade. He walked straight to Helena and whispered in her ear. The “Ice Queen” looked like she’d been struck by lightning. Grandfather Vanderwaal hammered his cane on the floor. “Speak up! Is he the father of my great-grandchild or not?” Tristan chuckled. “Of course not. He’s just a—” “The results,” the doctor interrupted, his voice shaking, “show a 99.99% probability of paternity. Mr. Crawford is the father.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400784”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel